


Prince and Princess

by PalomaD



Category: The Mummy Series
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4886059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalomaD/pseuds/PalomaD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome back to my Medjaiverse. Fourth in the series that starts with Little Bird. Will make more sense if you read the other three. Ardeth's and Jamila's children and their friends are growing up. I always rate higher just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince and Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters. I make no money from this. If you recognize anyone from a movie, book, etc., I just borrowed them to play with. I want to convey my sincere and everlasting appreciation to Stephen Sommers and Universal Studios for the creation of The Mummy and especially the character of Ardeth Bay. No copyright infringement is intended.

“That one bears watching,” Humam Bay said to his son. The former Medjai Chieftain and the current Medjai Chieftain were sitting by one of the training rings, observing a group of newly marked warriors.

“I agree, father,” replied Ardeth Bay, the aforementioned son and the current Chieftain of all the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai.

“I do not mean to tell you what to do,” amended Humam. 

Ardeth knew that his father had had a difficult relationship with his own father. Humam’s mother died giving birth to him and Solkar, his father, never recovered from the loss. Solkar did not actually blame his son, or so he tried to believe, but he was never able to treat Humam with any softness. There were no kind words, only orders. Luckily, Humam had met and married Amira, who gave him the love and affection he had missed. When their children were born, Humam swore that he would show them the love his own father had been unable to show him.

“Your guidance is always appreciated,” Ardeth replied. He valued his father’s counsel. Ardeth had been quite young when he became Chieftain and even now he still listened to his father’s advice.

“How is Kazeem’s back?” asked Humam. Not only had Ardeth’s son received the standard Medjai tattoos, he had also been marked on his left shoulder blade with the Bay family symbol, the image of a Ba.

“He would not complain if it bothered him,” replied Ardeth. “He is a warrior now. But I do remember how mine itched for the longest time.” 

“He refused the herbs,” said Humam. The tattooing was a long and painful process, and the novices were given the opportunity to ingest certain herbs to dull the pain.

“He asked me whether I had taken them and when I said I had not, his mind was made up.”

“I seem to remember another novice who said the same thing to his father,” said Humam with a smile.

“Aiwa. And I regretted my decision with the first prick of the needle, but I was not going to back down. Sometimes I believe we are more stubborn than we need to be.”

“Stubbornness is not a bad trait in a leader,” replied Humam. “And our young Chieftain has his friend Benyamin to temper him.” 

The son of Ardeth’s second-in-command, Benyamin was what would be considered easygoing for a Medjai. He was slow to anger and more likely to try to solve a dispute with words than with blades. Of course, he was as proficient with a scimitar as any other young warrior, perhaps even more so, given who his father was. Musaid was considered the second best swordsman in recent Medjai history, right after Humam himself.

The two men turned back to the group of young warriors who were in the training ring.

“Which tribe is that one from?” asked Humam, referring to the warrior they had been discussing.

“I believe he is from one of the tribes along the Southern border with Nubia,” replied Ardeth. The tribes that were furthest south tended to be poorer and followed more traditional ways. When warriors from those tribes spent time on rotation in the more northern tribes, or in Cairo, cultural differences sometimes created problems. “I find it difficult to keep track of them all,” continued Ardeth. “The last time the O’Connells were here, Evelyn suggested I should give them name tags similar to the cards that are placed by the artifacts in the museum.”

Humam chuckled. “I do not think that would be appreciated,” he said.

“Nor do I. But I cannot do what Jamila does with the children of the village. If she does not know someone’s name, she calls them ‘sweetie’.”

“Is that not what she calls her horse?”

“Aiwa, Sometimes I think I am lucky she remembers my name!”

“So what is that one’s name?” asked Humam.

“Na…..something. Nazir? Naseef? I am getting old, father. You will save a place for me in the Tent of the Elders.”

“I am certain Kazeem knows. He should know the names of all the warriors in his group,” replied Humam. He caught Kazeem’s eye and motioned him over.

“Grandfather, father, I am pleased to see you here,” said Kazeem, walking over to the two older men. Ardeth missed the days when Kazeem called him Abu but remembered that he was the same way when he was newly marked, wanting to act ‘grown up’.

“Kazeem” said Humam. “We were wondering if you could tell us the name of that young warrior over there.”

“Which one?”

“The tall one, the one with the scowl.”

“That is Nazir,” replied Kazeem. “Did you need to speak with him?”

“La, we were simply trying to attach names to faces,” replied Humam. “It is good to see so many new warriors, but difficult to keep them all straight.”

“I am glad Benyamin and I were able to take our vows together,” said Kazeem. Benyamin had failed his first attempt at the traditional survival test, not making it back to the village in the allotted time. After that, Kazeem took time out from his own training schedule to help Benyamin, taking him out into the desert and following him home more than once. 

Kazeem unconsciously began to scratch his back.

“Do not touch it,” both father and grandfather said at once.

“The others are alright, but this one, I am aware of it all the time,” Kazeem said ruefully. 

“It is a reminder of who you are,” said Humam.

“I know, grandfather, but I wish it would remind me in a less obtrusive way, I will take my leave of you now.” Kazeem turned and walked back to the training ring.

“Will he ever smile again?” asked Ardeth.

Humam laughed. “You were just like that at his age, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. I believe our young Chieftain has recently begun to understand what being Chieftain really entails. Once he is married to the proper woman, you will see him smile again. Look at me. Look at your brother.”

“Ah, my brother. He will have his hands full soon.” Ardeth’s brother Yusef was only two years older than Kazeem. His birth had been a joyous surprise for Humam and Amira. Now Yusef was married, with two wives, and each was just beginning to show the signs of pregnancy.

“I remember when Sarra and Tali decided they were going to marry Yusef,” said Humam. “They were about four and Yusef was two.”

“They never wavered,” said Ardeth. “Even when they were of courting age, they refused to entertain any suitors, insisting they were waiting for Yusef.”

“They look happy,” said Humam, indicating the three people approaching.

“Father, brother, it is a beautiful morning, is it not?” Yusef turned to his wives, who were following the prescribed two steps behind. “Let me attend to my wives and I will join you.”

There was a small covered area near the training ring equipped with water jugs, minimal first aid supplies, and a scattering of low stools. Yusef led Sarra and Tali to its shelter and made sure they were comfortably seated. Then he returned to Ardeth and Humam.

“What?” asked Yusef, noting the grin on Ardeth’s face.

“Every time you say ‘my wives’ I feel there should be a fanfare playing.”

“Brother, I am overcome with joy when I look at them. Nefertiti was an old hag in comparison.”

Ardeth had to admit that the sisters were striking. They were identical twins, and even after knowing them their whole lives, Ardeth still sometimes had problems telling them apart. Sarra was the more serious of the two while Tali was quicker to laugh. They were tall and slender like their mother Natira, but had their father Musaid’s facial features, which looked surprisingly good on the girls. Ardeth’s wife Jamila tended to wear her hair in a long braid down her back or completely pinned up. Sarra and Tali left their long black hair loose in the back and had the front pieces in what Jamila told Ardeth were ‘knots’. Today, both Sarra and Tali had ringed their eyes with kohl, evoking the style of ancient Egypt. 

Now Sarra and Tali were sitting in the shade, chatting softly with each other so as not to disturb the warriors who were sparring. Occasionally, one of them would catch Yusef’s eye, say something to her sister, and they would both giggle.

“They seem to find you amusing,” said Humam.

Yusef blushed to the point that his facial tattoos seemed to glow. “It is private, Abu,” he said.

“Brother,” interrupted Ardeth. “Do you recall when you started calling our father Abu again? Kazeem has become more formal than you ever were.” 

Yusef was glad to change the subject. “I believe once I was married and found out I was to be a father myself, the term Abu took on a new meaning for me. Kazeem is newly marked. It will take some time.”

“And here is the old, grizzled warrior giving us his advice, Good morning Sayyids, good morning Yusef,” Musaid joked as he joined the others. “I see Benyamin is holding his own out there,” he said, indicating his son. “And my daughters?” Musaid pretended to glare at Yusef.

“They are sitting in the shade,” Yusef replied evenly, meeting his father-in-law’s gaze. “They could not be any more comfortable unless there were servants fanning them with palm fronds.”

“You are a good boy, Yusef,” said Musaid, ignoring the way Yusef bristled at being called a boy. “You will make a fine second-in-command for our young Chieftain someday.” 

The four men chatted a while longer while keeping an eye on the training ring. Finally, Humam made to get up. “If you will give me my staff, please,” he said to Ardeth. Both sons immediately rose. 

“Do you need any help, father?” Yusef was quick to ask.

“Take care of your wives,” replied Humam gently. “This old warhorse can still make it to the stable by himself.” Humam turned to Musaid. “You are right, Musaid. He is a good boy.” 

After Humam left, Yusef turned to the other men. “I shall also take my leave,” he said. “Sarra and Tali have been outside in the heat long enough.” 

After Yusef collected his wives and left, Ardeth turned to Musaid. “Tell me, my friend. Were we that solicitous when our wives were with child?” Neither man noticed the expression on Nazir’s face as the young warrior watched Yusef, Sarra, and Tali walk away.

..oo00oo..  
Ardeth returned to his tent one evening to find his son alone there. “Where are your mother and sister?” he asked.

Kazeem looked up from the saddle he was repairing. “They are learning how to cook, or at least Yasmeen is,” he said with a smile. “I think what they are really doing is bringing food to some of the families who may not have enough, and using cooking lessons as an excuse.”

“Your Ume takes after my mother in that way,” replied Ardeth. “She has a way of helping people without robbing them of their dignity.” Ardeth indicated the saddle in Kazeem’s lap. “What are you doing?”

“I am reinforcing this stirrup. I noticed it was loose the other day.”

“Twig is a fine horse,” said Ardeth. “You have always taken good care of him.”

“I still remember when we got him,” said Kazeem. “I was not sure he would even last the night, but you were right, father. He turned out very well.”

“And he has been a big success with the ladies,” added Ardeth. Twig had already sired a number of excellent foals In fact, Ardeth now rode one of them as his battle horse.

“I was surprised you chose Maleek, and not one of Askari’s sons,” said Kazeem, referring to the big white stallion that had been his father’s horse when Kazeem was a child. 

“If I had done that, I would always compare my new stallion with Askari, and that would not be fair. Maleek will make his own reputation.”

For a moment, Kazeem wondered if his father was still talking about horses.

“I would like you to go to Cairo for supplies in the next few days,” said Ardeth, changing the subject. “Take Yusef, and a few of the new warriors. Now that you are marked, you should start learning how to command.”

Once Kazeem was a novice, he was allowed to ride out on patrol with the older warriors. Ardeth would bring his son up to the front of the company and have Kazeem give the order to proceed. “Do not look behind you,” the Chieftain instructed his son. “A good leader assumes his orders are being obeyed. If you show that you have any concerns, your warriors will doubt your ability to lead them.”

That was the hardest part. Kazeem loved being the one to raise his arm and shout “Yalla! Imshi!” but it took all his self-control not to turn around and make sure he was actually being followed.

Ardeth took a piece of paper out of one of the pockets of his robe. “Here is a list of what we need,” he said. “The last caravan that was here did not have everything your mother wanted, so I am sure she will also have some things to add. You will bring some extra horses back from the garrison to carry everything.” Even though automobiles were becoming more common in Cairo, the Medjai seldom used them out in the desert. 

Kazeem looked over the list, which contained a disparate group of items, ranging from bullets to flour. Most of the supplies would already be on hand in the storerooms of the Medjai compound in Cairo. The rest could be easily purchased in the souk.

“I know I do not need to remind you to stop at Abdul’s on your way home,” said Ardeth. Not only did the Medjai-run restaurant act as the eyes and ears of the tribe in Cairo, it was also famous for its delicious pastries. When Abdul decided to marry an Italian woman, he was required to leave his village. Humam set him up as a café owner in Cairo. Now Abdul and Giuliana had three sons, three daughters-in-law, and many grandchildren. All of them, including the older children, worked in the restaurant in some capacity.

“Of course, father.”

“And you will give my regards to Reyah.”

Kazeem looked at his father in alarm. He began to say that he did not intend to visit the Pharaoh’s Jewel, one of the pleasure houses in Cairo for which the Medjai provided security in exchange for information. But before the words left his mouth, Kazeem realized that it was futile to lie to his father.

“Of course, father,” said Kazeem. “She may have information about treasure seekers asking about any of the sacred places.” It was not unusual for customers, after having had a few drinks, to brag to their ‘dates’ about how they intended to loot this tomb or that temple. Unfortunately for them, some of these men were never heard from again. The Medjai allowed the exploration of many of the ancient places, but there were some sites, especially Hamunaptra, that were off-limits to outsiders. 

“That, too,” smirked Ardeth.

“You will keep your men in line,” added Ardeth more seriously.

Kazeem brightened at the term ‘your men’, but answered his father in the same serious tone. “It is a lot of responsibility, Abu.”

“I am not saying you may not enjoy yourself, but you must always have one ear open to what is happening around you. Depend on Yusef to help you. I doubt he will be doing anything else with the girls but playing cards.”

“Sarra and Tali would skin him alive,” replied Kazeem.

“Only if Musaid did not get to him first,” said Ardeth. Although it was acceptable and even expected among the Medjai for single men to visit the pleasure houses of Cairo, such activities were frowned upon for married men. 

“I think I will take Benyamin, and Ehab, and Nazir,” said Kazeem. “Ehab is good to have around in case of trouble. People look at his size and decide they do not want to risk a fight with him.” In the Medjai village, Ehab was known as a shy and even tempered young man, but to outsiders, he seemed to be a hulking brute.

“And Nazir?” prompted Ardeth.

“I believe he needs to let off some steam,” replied Kazeem. “He has been getting into scuffles with some of the other warriors for insignificant reasons.”

“Perhaps he is homesick,” said Ardeth.

“Perhaps, but unless you want to send him all the way back to his village early, this may be a good solution.” Normally, Medjai warriors did at least one three month rotation at a time away from their own village. 

“Whatever you say, Sayyid,” Ardeth said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh I am sorry, Abu. I did not mean…..”

“La, la. You are just going to Cairo, not into battle. It is good for you to make these decisions on your own.”

..oo00oo..  
“You’re sending him to Cairo alone,” Jamila accused as she and Ardeth were getting ready for bed that night.

“Jamila, I am not sending him alone,” replied Ardeth. “He will have Yusef, and Benyamin, and two of the other young warriors.”

“But they are just children. What if something happens to them?”

“Kazeem is a warrior now, kalila. He has his marks. He has proven he can survive in the desert alone.” Before they took their vows, novice warriors were taken out a day’s ride into the desert and left there to find their own way back to the village. As the future Chieftain, Kazeem’s trial was more difficult. He was taken out a three day’s ride, blindfolded for parts of the way so he would not know where he was. Even though he was monitored from afar by some of the older warriors, the journey home was still dangerous.

“Are you certain you don’t want to go to Cairo with them, my husband?”

“I would rather stay here with you. I will ask my Ume if Yasmeen can stay there for a few days. I have plans for you once we are alone.”

“You are one sneaky Medjai,” Jamila said, smiling. “But who am I to go against my lord’s wishes?” Jamila put her arms around her husband’s waist. “Promise he will be alright?”

“We will trust in Allah to watch over him,” replied Ardeth, kissing his wife on the top of her head.

The next morning, five Medjai warriors prepared to leave for Cairo. Yusef grumbled a bit when Sarra and Tali presented him with a list of their own, but smiled when he saw that most of the items were baby things. He had already realized that he would have a hard time ever denying his children anything, even before they were born.

“You should not let your women order you around,” remarked Nazir.

Yusef turned to the other man. He did not know Nazir very well and was somewhat offended by the personal nature of the remark. Even so, he was willing to give the other warrior the benefit of the doubt. “I find that if my wives are content,” Yusef said, emphasizing the word ‘wives’. “So am I.”

“Women should be taught to obey the same as horses,” replied Nazir. 

Before Yusef could respond, Kazeem, who was at the head of the mounted men, gave the signal to leave. The group set out, Kazeem at the lead, followed by Benyamin and Ehab, then Nazir and Yusef. During a long ride, Yusef and Benyamin would occasionally switch places so one of them was next to Kazeem and the other was in the rear. The next time Yusef was riding in the back, Nazir turned to him. “You should be riding up there,” said Nazir.

“I just was riding up there, with our young Chieftain,” replied Yusef.

“Why should he be the Chieftain and not you? Are you not the elder?”

“Kazeem is the son of the Chieftain, and as such is to be the next Chieftain.” Truthfully, Yusef was thankful that he would not have to shoulder that burden. Being the future second-in-command to his nephew suited him perfectly.

“But you are also the son of a Chieftain,” pressed Nazir. “Your father was Chieftain before. If something happened to Kazeem, would that honor not fall to you?”

For the second time that day, Yusef was unsure how to respond to Nazir. “I am honored to serve the Tribes of the Medjai in whatever manner I can,” he finally said.

“You should think about what I am saying,” replied Nazir. 

Yusef nodded his head noncommittally.

The next time Yusef was riding up front and out of earshot of the others, he turned to Kazeem. “I would appreciate your advice, Kazeem,” he said.

Kazeem looked at Yusef in surprise. Since they were both children, Yusef and Kazeem had almost always called each other ‘nephew’ and ‘uncle’. It had begun as a way to tease each other, but over the years had become their normal way of addressing one another.

“Is this something serious?” asked Kazeem.

“I am not sure. Nazir has said some troubling things to me.”

“Troubling? How?”

“First he made a comment about Sarra and Tali which I did not appreciate.” 

“Perhaps he was just speaking in jest,” replied Kazeem. Yusef was not known for his sense of humor, especially when it came to his wives.

“I was willing to think so, but then he said something else to me. He wanted to know if I was satisfied with my position as your future second-in-command.”

“And are you?” 

“I will ride beside you, or behind you, or ahead of you, whatever you wish,” said Yusef. 

“I could wish for nothing more,” replied Kazeem. “But you are correct. I have already mentioned my concerns about Nazir to my father. I wanted to see how he acted in a smaller group and away from any pressure he may feel in the village.”

The rest of the trip to Cairo was uneventful. Kazeem had made this journey many times before, but never as the leader of a group. As they approached the Medjai holding house, Yusef made his way up front so he was riding beside Kazeem. The two young warriors exchanged looks. Kazeem grinned, then schooled his expression to one he considered more fitting for a Medjai warrior.

As the horses and riders clattered on the cobblestones through the old gate, Rais, the Medjai Commander who was in charge of the compound, came out to meet them. When he saw Kazeem, Rais’ face lit up in a smile. “Ah, young Sayyid!” he exclaimed. “And Yusef! How good it is to see you both.”

Novices quickly approached to hold the horses so the riders could dismount. “You may turn him out when he is fed and watered,” Kazeem said to the boy holding his horse’s reins. “And please brush him when he is brought in for the night.” Despite Twig’s size, he was quite even tempered and easy to handle. 

“Aiwa, Sayyid. He is a beautiful horse,” said the boy, stroking the large animal’s nose. “I will take extra good care of him.” 

Once the horses were led off, Rais approached Kazeem. “Let me see,” he said, unconsciously reaching his hand out to Kazeem’s face. Kazeem did not object. Rais had been in charge of the Medjai compound in Cairo for as long as Kazeem could remember, and Kazeem remembered sitting on Rais’ knee while the older man read the Quran with him.

“Very nice,” remarked Rais after inspecting Kazeem’s facial tattoos. “And the rest?”

Kazeem showed Rais his hands. “Those were easier, eh?” said Rais, spreading out his own hands to show the same tattoos, albeit faded with age, “And now you are a warrior.”

“But one who still values your counsel, uncle.” 

“Now you must call me by my name, not uncle,” replied Rais. Children normally called their elders ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’ even if no actual blood relationship existed.

“Of course……Rais.” Kazeem said. It still felt strange to him at times to be accepted as a warrior, when only a few months earlier he had been an unmarked novice.

“You must come and have some tea with me,” insisted Rais. “And tell me the news of home.” 

Kazeem glanced over at Yusef. “I will see that everyone is settled,” said Yusef. “And I will have your things brought to your father’s apartments.”

Kazeem had automatically assumed he would be staying in the barracks, as he usually did. Now he realized that he was expected to stay in the rooms where his parents normally stayed. These rooms consisted of a bedroom with a large double bed, a sitting room, and a private bathroom. Unlike the Medjai village, the Cairo compound had indoor plumbing, and Ardeth had had a private bathroom constructed for Jamila’s use. Kazeem did not mind taking advantage of these luxuries, but he would have been just as happy staying in the barracks. He had always looked forward to spending time with the warriors when he visited Cairo with his parents, both as a young boy and then as a novice. Now he was beginning to understand that as the future Chieftain, he was no longer going to enjoy the easy camaraderie shared by the men in the barracks.

Rais had his own rooms in a small building next to the barracks. While Rais was making tea, Kazeem looked around. There was a small sitting area furnished with cushions and low tables, a rudimentary kitchen off to one side, and what Kazeem assumed was a sleeping area through a doorway at the back. 

“I do not think I have ever been in your house,” Kazeem said.

“It’s not much of a house, just a place for an old man to enjoy some time to himself,” answered Rais.

Kazeem knew that Rais’ wife and son had died before Kazeem was born and that Rais had never remarried. Rais always said that the warriors under his command in Cairo were his family, and he treated the younger ones as if they were his own children. This was one of the reasons Rais had been made commander of the Cairo garrison. Many of the younger warriors had never been on their own before, and benefited from the even minimal supervision that Rais was able to provide.

“What are your plans while you are in Cairo, young Sayyid?” asked Rais as he served tea from a samovar similar but not as elaborate as the one Kazeem’s family owned. He also set down a plate of small round cookies covered with white glaze and multicolored sprinkles.

Kazeem pulled a sheaf of papers from his robe. “I have a list of supplies for the village, and some other lists from my Ume, my grandmothers, and I think anyone else who could grab me before we left,” Kazeem said with a smile.

“Let me see. Most of the supplies from the Chieftain’s list we already have in the storerooms.” Rais said as he read Ardeth’s flowing Arabic script. “As for the rest, I believe a trip to the souk is in order. I understand Yusef has a baby coming. I can steer him to the stalls where he will be able to purchase what he needs for a good price.”

“Babies,” Kazeem corrected. “Both of his wives are with child.”

“That’s right. He married Musaid’s girls, didn’t he? And what about you? Is there some girl waiting for you back in the village?”

“I am still looking, uncle, I mean Rais.”

“Ah, looking is half the fun! I assume you will be paying your respects to Reyah?” asked Rais with a wink.

“Aiwa, men who are planning to go exploring for treasure are always bragging to her girls.”

“That, too,” Rais smirked.

“That is exactly what my Abu said!” exclaimed Kazeem.

“In that case, I am in good company. I don’t mean to tease you Kazeem, and I know I don’t need to warn you about the trouble a man can get into in Cairo. I think I would rather face, well, you know, than have to go into some of the more, shall we say, colorful establishments. Reyah’s house is positively tame in comparison.”

“Sometimes I wish I was there when my Abu sent the Creature back to the Underworld,” said Kazeem. “Or fought the Army of Anubis. Now it seems all we do is chase treasure hunters around in the desert.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” replied Rais. “The Creature again sleeps under the sand. You may yet have your chance.”

Once the tea and cookies were gone, Kazeem rose. “I shall have to bring some of those back home,” Kazeem said, indicating the now empty plate. “Their taste reminds me of something but I cannot place it.”

“Ah, that is the anise. I’ll wager when you were a little boy, your Ume gave you yansoon tea when your stomach was bothering you. Apparently in Italy, they use anise in baking.”

“They are always coming up with something new at Abdul’s,” Kazeem remarked. As Abdul’s family grew, so did his business. What had once been a small café was now an elaborate restaurant. But Abdul’s wife Giuliana still oversaw the kitchen and Abdul still greeted guests in the dining room.

“Yes, Abdul is responsible for this,” said Rais, patting his stomach. “I fear I have grown soft over the years from eating his food.

“Soft is not a word I would ever use to describe you,” replied Kazeem. Even though he had spent much of his adult life in Cairo, Rais still had the look of a desert dweller about him. He had a full beard like most Medjai men. Kazeem wore his hair long like his father and brother, but Rais’ still black curly hair was cut short. Kazeem knew that Rais’s was still fit and muscular under his robes. He had seen the older man spar with younger men and easily defeat them. Rais laughingly said that a Medjai who had fought against the Army of Anubis had nothing to fear from newly marked warriors. Unlike the shopkeepers and office workers of Cairo, Rais’ hands were marked with scars and callouses from years of riding and using a blade. 

“Shukran, my lord,” said Rais. “But now, I believe your men are waiting for you.”

“Aiwa, I will go clean up a bit first. Thank you again for the inviting me to have tea with you.” 

Kazeem had been told more times than he could count how important it was to be respectful of others. “When you are Chieftain,” Ardeth had said. “You can order your men to their deaths and they will obey. But it is better if they follow you out of respect rather than fear.” 

Kazeem had heard the story so often that he could almost picture the scene in his mind: his father standing in front of the a line of Medjai warriors that extended in each direction as far as the eye could see, giving the order to attack as the Army of Anubis came rushing over the dunes. Not one man backed down, even though they knew they were facing certain death. Kazeem thought if he was held in only half the high esteem as his father, he would be happy. 

..oo00oo..  
It was a short walk from the Medjai garrison to The Pharaoh’s Jewel. The five young warriors made their way through the streets of Cairo unimpeded. Neither the petty thieves nor the pickpockets were willing to tangle with Medjai warriors, no matter that they were rumored to carry gold beneath their black robes.

When they arrived at The Pharaoh’s Jewel, the door was opened by a large scowling man wearing a shenti and a black wig in the style of ancient Egypt. Kazeem knew that the supposedly decorative tattoos adorning the man’s body were not makeup; they were Medjai tattoos. When the guard saw Kazeem and the other warriors, his face lit up. “Young Chieftain!” he exclaimed. “I heard you had received your marks. I’m sure Reyah has something special in mind for you tonight.”

Kazeem had visited the pleasure house in the past both on official Medjai business and for his own personal reasons. As he looked around the large parlour, he recognized a few of the girls, and wondered which one Reyah might have chosen to be his “special” companion for the evening.

Kazeem’s thoughts were interrupted as Reyah entered the room, smiling widely. She clapped her hands when she saw Kazeem and enfolded him in a hug. The first time Kazeem had visited, he was taken aback by Reyah’s behavior. But now he understood that touching taboos had no place here.

“Kazeem!” the older woman said. She drew back and looked the young warrior over. “I see I shall have to start calling you Sayyid,” she said.

Kazeem was getting used to the way people reacted when they saw his fresh tattoos and only blushed a little. “Not for a while yet, Reyah,” he replied. “Allah willing, my father will lead the Twelve Tribes for many years.”

Reyah turned to the other men. “Yusef!” she said. “I understand you are married now and expecting a baby. I did not think I would see you back here so soon.”

“Both my wives are with child,” Yusef answered proudly, to raised eyebrows on Reyah’s part. “I have merely come along to receive any information you may have gathered.”

“The girls will miss you,” replied Reyah. Despite Yusef’s serious demeanor, he was always a welcome guest due to his gentle ways and considerate manners. 

“And who are these other three?” continued Reyah.

“I believe you know Benyamin,” replied Kazeem. “It is his sisters who married my uncle.”

It took Reyah a minute to recall that Yusef was Kazeem’s uncle. “Oh yes,” she said. “I sometimes forget that you are all related.”

“This is Nazir, and this is Ehab,” continued Kazeem.

“He is a big one,” remarked Reyah, looking up at Ehab. “I believe he has already caught someone’s eye.” Reyah indicated one of the girls seated on a low couch across the room. “Does she please you?” Reyah asked Ehab.

Ehab looked at Kazeem in confusion.

“Go ahead,” said Kazeem. “She won’t bite you.” 

“Not unless you want her to,” added Benyamin in a whisper.

Ehab gave one last look at his comrades and started over to his “date”.

“He looks like he is headed for the gallows,” remarked Kazeem.

“I think he has not done this before,” answered Reyah. “But do not worry, young Chieftain. He will be well taken care of. And what about you, Benyamin?”

Benyamin had already made his choice, a girl who was a bit plumper than the others. “I do not like skinny girls,” he announced, walking over to claim his companion for the evening.

That left Nazir. He was eyeing the girls as if they were slabs of meat in the butcher’s stall. Finally, he stalked over to one of them and grabbed her by the hand. “You’ll do,” he said, tugging the girl to her feet.

“My apologies, Reyah,” said Kazeem as they watched Nazir and the girl go up the stairs to the private rooms. “That one has yet to learn some manners. I believe he has not spent much time outside his own village.”

“Not a man of the world like you Bays,” said Reyah. “Don’t worry, my girls can usually handle difficult customers themselves. And if there is any trouble, there is always Amid.”

Upon hearing his name, the guard at the door gave a quick bow. While Ehab was large, Amid was bigger all around: taller, wider, and with muscles that told of years of practice with a blade.

“In that case, I shall have to be on my best behavior,” replied Kazeem with a smile. 

“Good, because I have a special treat for you, in honor of you taking your vows.” Reyah motioned to two girls. “Alika and Varda will attend you.” Unlike the others, who were dressed in what could be loosely considered belly dancer outfits, these girls were wearing simple white linen shifts. 

“You remember that I took over that awful place next door?” Reyah asked. There had been a disreputable gambling house next to the Pharaoh’s Jewel. With the help of the Medjai, it had been shut down. Reyah had purchased the building, torn it down, and built an addition to her already sprawling establishment. “Well, wait until you see what I replaced it with!”

Kazeem allowed himself to be led off by the two girls, through an archway and down a short corridor that was decorated with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Once they reached the end of the corridor, Alika pushed aside a beaded curtain with a flourish. “Please enter, Sayyid,” the girl said.

“This is amazing,” said Kazeem as he walked into the room. In the middle of the room, ringed with tiles in the colors of lapis and turquoise, was a large sunken tub which would easily hold three people. Painted on all the walls were scenes of life in ancient Egypt. At each corner of the room a glowing torch shed its light. Kazeem could smell kyphi incense burning, which added to the impression that he was back in ancient times. 

“Madame Reyah saves this for our favorite customers,” offered Varda. Kazeem could understand why. Even with indoor plumbing, filling the sunken tub would be time consuming.

“Now you must let us bathe you,” said Alika, “I will start at the top and Varda will start at the bottom.”

“And we will meet in the middle,” added Varda, giggling.

Back in the parlour, Reyah and Yusef were sitting at one of the round tables scattered through the room, a pot of tea between them.

“I have a list here,” said Reyah. “With the names of men who have bragged about their intentions to find hidden tombs. Ever since that boy Tut was found, it seems like everyone who comes to Egypt fancies himself the next Howard Carter.”

Many Egyptians thought of Tutankhamun as a distant relative, so Reyah’s reference to him as ‘that boy’ did not surprise Yusef.

“I also have written down where these men are staying, in case you want to pay them a visit,” continued Reyah. “And finally, my girls have recommended guides to those who seemed the most serious. Coincidentally, most of the guides have these.” Reyah put her fingers up to her cheeks in an approximation of the tattoos on her companion’s face.

“We can always depend on you, Reyah,” said Yusef. “Over the years, you have earned the respect and gratitude of my people.” 

“It’s always been my pleasure to help the Medjai,” replied Reyah. “You have always been good friends to me and my girls. But now, I want to show you something.” Reyah took a photograph out of her robe. “Do you remember my daughter Tahira?”

“I know her name, but I do not recall meeting her,” answered Yusef. 

“Oh, she is a few years older than you. She lives in London now.” 

Yusef looked down at the photo, which showed a pretty, dark haired young woman in a nurse’s uniform. 

“And she is a nurse?”

“Not for long, I think. She has a suitor, an Englisher named Paul. He was an RAF pilot that she met here in Cairo. After he returned to England, he sent for her. I think there will be a wedding in their future.”

“I mean no insult, but it is strange to me that these Europeans do not allow their women to work,” said Yusef. “My wife Sarra works with our healer. And my wife Tali helps teach some of the younger children.” Yusef’s father Humam had encouraged his people to learn to read and write, and over the years small schools had sprung up in each tribe. Now, most Medjai could speak both Arabic and English, and many of the younger ones could also read and write both languages.

“Yes, I think Tahira may be bored, at least until she has a baby or two.”

“My wife Sarra insists she is going to help deliver Tali’s baby, unless she is also giving birth that day.”

Reyah looked at Yusef in surprise as understanding dawned on her. “You caught them both the same day?”

“Aiwa.” Normally, such conversation would not take place between men and women, but given where he was, Yusef was not offended. If anything, he was brimming with pride at the obvious evidence of his virility.

“That is wonderful! If you drank alcohol I would offer you a toast.”

“This tea is fine,” replied Yusef. “And perhaps a game of cards to pass the time?”

There were still a few girls sitting in the parlour, and Reyah motioned three of them over to the table. “Take good care of our guest,” she admonished. “I will go organize some refreshments.”

Yusef spent the next hour playing cards. Medjai did not gamble, but Reyah doled out a sleeve of chips so the players could keep track of who was winning.

Yusef was a good card player. He kept track of which cards had been played and watched his opponents’ faces for signs that they had good or bad hands. However, he made sure that he did not win every hand, and ultimately everyone had approximately the same number of chips. 

“I thank you for spending this time with me,” said Yusef, taking a pouch out of his robe.”

“There is no payment necessary,” protested one of the girls. “We enjoy your company. And we didn’t actually have to…….” 

“In any case, please allow me the enjoyment of giving you just a few coins.” Yusef knew that many of the girls who worked here had children and whatever money he gave them would be appreciated.

Yusef had timed his card playing just right. Within a few minutes, Benyamin and Ehab walked down the staircase that led up to the private rooms. 

“Where is our fearless leader?” quipped Benyamin. 

“Reyah had something special in mind for him. He was led off down that corridor and never returned,” replied Yusef ominously.

“Maybe we should go look for him,” said Ehab, looking around with concern.

“I think you will get more of an education than you bargained for if you do,” said Yusef.

“Ehab, Yusef is teasing you,” interrupted Benyamin, casting a sharp glance at his brother-in-law.

Ehab did not know Yusef well, and before this trip had not realized that Yusef had a sense of humor. 

“I knew that,” protested Ehab, blushing. 

“You would follow Kazeem into Duat, wouldn’t you,” asked Benyamin, more seriously.

“Of course,” answered Ehab without hesitation.

“That is the way it should be,” said Yusef. “Kazeem needs loyal warriors by his side.”

Just then, Kazeem returned, followed by Alika and Varda. 

“Your hair is wet, nephew,” said Yusef. “What have you been doing?”

“I have been having a bath,” replied Kazeem. “A very thorough bath.” 

The two girls behind Kazeem giggled.

“Uncle,” Kazeem continued. “I now see the benefit of having two women attend you.”

Ehab took a step back. Such talk could be dangerous among men who sometimes thought with their blades. But all Yusef did was smile.

“You shall have to provide me with the details, so that I may instruct my wives,” said Yusef.

“That’s my sisters you are talking about!” protested Benyamin. But then he, too, smiled.

“Where is Nazir?” Kazeem asked, looking around.

“He should be back soon, Sayyid,” said Ehab. 

“Let us sit down and wait,” said Kazeem, taking one of the seats at the table where Yusef sat.

The four men sat and chatted quietly, or rather, Yusef, Kazeem, and Benyamin talked, and Ehab listened. Finally, Kazeem turned to the other man. “Ehab, do you have anything you would like to add?” Kazeem prompted.

Ehab looked at the other men. “I would like to say,” he began. “How much I appreciate being here.”

“Aiwa, this is a nice place,” agreed Benyamin.

“La, I mean I appreciate being here with the three of you,” corrected Ehab.

“We value your company,” responded Kazeem. In fact, Kazeem had already decided that he liked Ehab, both for his skill as a warrior and his humble demeanor.

Kazeem had also decided that he did not like Nazir, and his opinion did not change when the other warrior finally came downstairs.

It was obvious to Kazeem that Nazir was drunk. The girl following Nazir down the stairs rushed over to Kazeem. “Sayyid,” she began. “There was a bottle in my room left over from the last customer, and this one drank it all at once before I could stop him!”

“That was the only way I could bear to lay down with you,” retorted Nazir, raising his hand as if to strike the girl. 

Almost immediately, Nazir’s arm was encircled by Ehab’s large hand. “We do not strike ladies,” Ehab said quietly.

“She’s no lady,” protested Nazir, unsuccessfully trying to remove his arm from Ehab’s grip.

“No matter, we are guests here, and we will behave accordingly,” said Kazeem. 

“You are not my Chieftain,” Nazir slurred, still trying to free his arm.

“Actually, I am,” Kazeem replied coldly. Then recalling a saying of Rick O’Connell’s, something about flies, honey, and vinegar, Kazeem softened his tone. “Come Nazir, let us all take a walk together outside to clear our heads. It is alright, Ehab, you can let go of his arm.”

Ehab released Nazir’s arm, and Nazir was immediately surrounded by Yusef on one side and Benyamin on the other. They managed to get Nazir to the door without much trouble. 

Amid had been watching the group, ready to step in if needed. He relaxed when he saw that Kazeem seemed to have the situation in hand.

“Please give Madame Reyah our apologies,” said Kazeem, when Amid went to open the door.

“Of course, my lord,” replied the older warrior. “These things happen more times than you would expect.”

As the men were leaving, Kazeem realized that Ehab was not with them. He looked back, and noticed that Ehab was giving the girl who had been with Nazir some coins. Kazeem never wanted for gold, but he knew that the average Medjai did not have a lot of extra money. 

“You did not have to do that,” Kazeem whispered to Ehab when the other man joined the group outside.

“Aiwa, I did,” replied Ehab. “I did not want to leave that girl with a bad taste in her mouth when she thought of the Medjai.”

The walk back to the Medjai compound was accomplished mostly in silence, punctuated occasionally by Nazir’s mumblings. Once they were back in the barracks, Benyamin and Ehab escorted Nazir over to the cot that had been set up for him. Nazir fell back on the bed with only a little help from his companions, and was unconscious almost immediately.

“Well that went well,” Kazeem remarked wryly to Yusef as they watched the other three men. “Are you still certain you do not want to be Chieftain?”

“La, la. I will leave that honor to you. 

“My father will not be pleased when he hears of Nazir’s behavior.”

“Kazeem, there was no fault in your actions. You managed to control the situation before it got out of hand. A lesser man would have resorted to fists rather than words.”

“At least now I know why our faith prohibits the drinking of alcohol.”

..oo00oo..  
Back in the Medjai village, Ardeth was looking forward to an evening alone with his wife. 

Yasmeen was spending the night with her grandparents. She would sleep in Yusef’s former sleeping area, which had actually been Ardeth’s many years ago. Ardeth was glad that his daughter had such a good relationship with all her grandparents. Yasmeen was of just of courting age, although the fact that the she was the Chieftain’s daughter had so far discouraged many suitors. Jamila tended to overreact when Yasmeen talked about this novice or that young warrior, but both Amira and Fatima had a more sanguine outlook. And with either Humam or Jamila’s adoptive father Hatim nearby, Ardeth did not need to worry about proper chaperonage.

After Ardeth finished his evening rounds, he returned to his tent. As soon as he entered, Jamila let out a shriek.

“My wife! What is wrong?” asked the Chieftain with concern.

“You need to leave! I am not ready yet!” 

Ardeth could see that Jamila had what looked like a bundle of clothes behind her back. “What do you have there?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise for you. You’ll like it, I promise. Now will you please go someplace for about a half hour? Please?”

“Fine. I will go visit Musaid and Natira.” Ardeth tried to maintain a stern expression, but mostly failed. Even after years of marriage and two children, he still looked forward to Jamila’s “surprises”.

Ardeth walked over to his second-in-command’s tent and knocked on the tent pole by the door. “Musaid,” he called. “May I speak with you?”

Ardeth heard rustling noises coming from inside the tent, and a moment later Musaid appeared at the door. He was bare-chested and was just finishing tying the drawstring of his pants. 

“Is there a problem, Sayyid?” asked Musaid.

“La, my lady wife has banished me from our tent while she prepares a surprise for me.”

Natira walked up behind her husband and put her arms around his waist. Her hair, which she normally wore in a braid down her back, was loose and reached well past her waist. She was wearing her outer robe and it seemed likely to Ardeth that Natira had thrown it on hurriedly to cover herself..

Ardeth looked from Musaid to Natira and back to Musaid. “My apologies, my friend,” he said. “I did not mean to disturb you. I was not thinking that you were also without children tonight.”

Kazeem and Benyamin had taken to spending some nights in the barracks with the other warriors, but still slept in their own tents most of the time.

Natira was almost as tall as her husband, so it was without difficulty that she lifted her head and whispered into Musaid’s ear.

“Natira, do you know about this surprise?” asked Ardeth.

“Aiwa, but the Sayyidah has sworn me to secrecy.”

“And if I were to order you as your Chieftain to tell me what it is?”

“Then we would both be in trouble,” replied Natira

“I surrender. May I at least stay here for a bit until it is safe to return home?”

“Of course,” said Natira. “Let me go get some refreshments.” 

Musaid and Natira had not always had a stove in their tent. Before their children were born, both normally ate in the kitchen tent with the other warriors. As a warrior herself, Natira had never learned how to cook until she married Musaid. Now years later, Natira considered her cooking skills sufficient to make sure her family neither starved nor was poisoned, and she appreciated the fact that she had let herself be talked into getting the small stove that stood in an alcove at the rear of the tent.

“She’s not wearing anything under her robe,” Musaid remarked to Ardeth as the two men sat at the low table in the middle of the tent.

Ardeth made to get up. “I will go elsewhere,” he said. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“There is no reason to leave. I enjoy anticipating how I shall unwrap my wife later as if she were a beautiful present meant only for me.”

“What are you men discussing?” asked Natira as she returned with a jug of tamarind juice and a plate of sand biscuits.

The two men looked guiltily at each other.

“Should I leave?” asked Natira with a smile. 

“La, la,” replied Musaid. “Come and sit beside me and I will feed you biscuits.”

As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Medjai men and women treated each other quite formally. Women usually went veiled when outside the village and touching taboos were observed between men and women who were not related. Girls were not allowed to be courted until they were fourteen and even then it was only under strict supervision. However, within the privacy of their own tents and among relatives and close friends, Medjai husbands and wives showed open affection towards each other. Ardeth recalled Yusef’s dismay upon figuring out that their parents still enjoyed a physical relationship. “Did you think you were like Athena?” Ardeth had asked his younger brother.

Once Ardeth thought enough time had elapsed, he thanked his friends for their hospitality and returned to his own tent. This time, he knocked on the tent pole before entering. “Is it safe to come home now?” he called.

“Aiwa,” Ardeth a voice say. He walked into his tent and looked around. In the doorway to his sleeping area, Ardeth saw a woman dressed in European clothes, standing with her back to him. She was wearing a suit made of some sort of grey patterned material, with a pencil skirt and a peplum jacket. Her hair, which was pinned up a roll, was topped by a black beret complete with a short netted veil. But what drew Ardeth’s gaze was the woman’s legs. She was wearing heeled pumps topped with seamed nylon stockings. Ardeth had seen outfits like this on women in London, but never expected to see a woman dressed like this in his own tent.

“Jamila, is that you?” Ardeth asked. He was pretty sure it was his wife, but he wanted to make certain.

The woman turned and Ardeth could see that it was indeed Jamila. “Do you like it?” she asked.

“Turn around again,” instructed Ardeth. Jamila complied.

Ardeth walked over to his wife and bent down. He ran his hands over Jamila’s legs, paying special attention to the seams in her stockings. “This is quite a nice surprise,” he murmured. “Your legs are very beautiful this way.”

Jamila turned her head. “The shoes are not comfortable. I don’t know how Evy can stand to wear them. Do you mind if I take them off now?”

“I would prefer that you keep them on. But as for the rest of your outfit, if you could remove it…..slowly.” Ardeth took a few steps back, giving himself a better view.

Jamila turned around and removed her hat and placed it on the floor. She normally only wore the least amount of kohl around her eyes, but tonight she was wearing red lipstick. “This is for later,” she said, indicating her lips.

Ardeth was baffled, but he had already decided that whatever Jamila had in mind would be worth his patience. 

The suit jacket was held closed in the front by three large white buttons. When Jamila unfastened them, Ardeth could see that Jamila was wearing a brassiere. This was something he had become familiar with during his bachelor days as a student in London, but as far as Ardeth knew, Jamila had never worn one. It was not the fashion among Medjai women. However, unlike the utilitarian cotton undergarments that British women normally wore, what Jamila wore was a few pieces of lace held together by ribbons.

“Remove your jacket,” Ardeth ordered, never taking his eyes off his wife. Jamila did as asked and dropped the jacket on the floor, next to her hat, never taking her eyes off her husband. 

Ardeth was back at his wife’s side in an instant, his hands covering the lacy cups of her bra. “What are you wearing underneath your skirt,” he asked, his hands stroking Jamila’s nipples through the thin fabric.

“If my lord will remove my skirt, he will find out,” replied Jamila, leaning into her husband’s touch.

Ardeth reached behind his wife and made quick work of the button and zipper at the back of Jamila’s skirt. The skirt slid to the floor and Ardeth stepped back to see what he had revealed.

“You are wearing garters!” Ardeth exclaimed. Jamila was wearing a lacy garter belt over an almost transparent pair of panties that matched her bra. 

“Do they not please you?” Suddenly, Jamila felt shy, even though Ardeth had seen her in far less clothes innumerable times.

“They please me very much,” replied Ardeth, reaching out to gently unfasten one of the clips that was holding up Jamila’s stockings. “And I shall very much enjoy examining them more closely. But now, you must tell me about the lipstick.”

“Evy says, that wherever my mouth touches you, I will leave an imprint in the shape of my lips.”

“Anywhere in particular?” asked Ardeth, beginning to understand what Jamila meant.

“Aiwa, anywhere.” Jamila looked down at the place between her husband’s legs she very much enjoyed touching with her mouth.

“In that case, I look forward to seeing the imprint of your lips on every part of me.” With that, Ardeth took his wife by the hand and led her into their sleeping area. 

..oo00oo..  
The next morning, Ardeth, as was his usual habit, was awake not long after sunrise. He looked over at a sleeping Jamila and breathed a prayer of thanks that he had been blessed with such a wife. Before he slipped out of the tent to do his morning rounds of the village, he made sure that all traces of lipstick were gone from his face and any other places where they could be seen. As for one particular place that was not visible to others, the Medjai decided to let those marks stay a bit longer.

Jamila was awake when Ardeth returned to their tent. Her hair was back in its usual long braid and she was wearing a very well-worn tunic and pants, an outfit quite different from what she had worn the night before. As for the clothing Evy had sent, Jamila had carefully folded it up and locked it away in the trunk that stood next to the bed.

“What are your plans for today, kalila?” asked Ardeth, noticing Jamila’s outfit.

“Zahara and I are going to henna the twins,” Jamila replied as she set breakfast out for her husband. “Zahara has lovely handwriting so she will do the Arabic. I am going to paint the hieroglyphics.” Jamila indicated her tunic. “I won’t mind if I get the paste on this robe.” Henna was notoriously difficult if not impossible to get out of fabric.

Applying henna to the abdomen of pregnant women was a Medjai tradition that had come down from ancient times. A type of brown henna that would not be harmful to the baby was used. Once the Medjai adopted the Muslim faith, prayers in Arabic were added to the traditional designs.

“Are you going to paint the same designs on both girls?” Ardeth did not really care but he always made sure that he showed interest in whatever Jamila was involved in.

“La. Yusef says his wives are his sun and his moon, so we will give each of them different designs.”

“Yusef will like that.”

“Aiwa, especially since he will be the only man to see them,” said Jamila.

Jamila smiled at her husband impishly. “I am also going to paint some naughty sayings. No one else will be able to read them and I will tell the girls what they mean.”

“Naughty ancient Egyptian sayings? You shall have to share those with me later.”

“I hope we are done and the henna is dry before the boys get back.”

Ardeth smiled upon hearing Jamila refer to the group of Medjai warriors as boys. “They should be back late today or early tomorrow,” he said, deciding not to tease his wife. Ardeth left unsaid the fact that a trip to Cairo to obtain supplies was normally much less dangerous than going out into the desert on patrol.

..oo00oo..  
Back in Cairo, Kazeem had also woken early. He was used to sleeping in his own pillow bed, or in a bedroll. The large European style bed in his parents’ apartments was too high and too big for his comfort. When Kazeem emerged into the barracks, he saw that Yusef, Benyamin, and Ehab were already awake. They were in the process of rolling up their bedrolls and packing their belongings into their saddlebags.

“Where is Nazir?” Kazeem asked, realizing that this was the second time in less than a day that he had asked that question.

“He is still asleep, my lord,” answered Ehab. 

“Hungover, more likely,” added Benyamin.

“I want to go to Abdul’s before we visit the souk,” said Kazeem. “Nazir needs to wake up and come with us.”

“You will like Abdul’s,” Benyamin remarked to Ehab. “They have wonderful food there.”

Meanwhile, Kazeem had walked over to the cot that held Nazir’s bedroll and a sleeping Nazir. “Nazir, it is time to get up,” Kazeem said evenly.

Nazir groaned and put his arm over his eyes. “It’s too early,” he protested.

“No matter, it is still time to get up.”

This time, Nazir opened his eyes and looked at Kazeem. “You are always ordering me around, and I don’t like it. Who put you in charge?”

Kazeem was taken aback for a moment, trying to think of an answer that would not antagonize the other man. None immediately came to mind. Finally, after a minute, he spoke.

“Nazir, I am going to excuse you this once,” Kazeem said coldly. “But know this. When you are in my company, I am your commander. You will treat me with obedience and respect. Now you will get up, and you will get ready to leave. Is that understood?”

To Kazeem’s surprise a grumbling Nazir rose from his bed with much moaning and complaining.

“We are going to Abdul’s restaurant for breakfast,” Kazeem said in a softer tone. “You are welcome to join us, or you may stay here in the barracks.”

Nazir looked uneasily at the other men, who had gathered around his bed.

“Aiwa, come to breakfast with us,” said Benyamin, ever the mediator.

Nazir nodded his head curtly in acquiescence.

“Good, that’s settled,” replied Benyamin. “Ehab and I will go check on the supplies we are taking from the storerooms while you pack your things.”

“That was very good, nephew,” said Yusef, as he and Kazeem walked away from Nazir.

“I learned from the best,” replied Kazeem. “Do you remember when we were boys, I used to try to imitate my father’s voice?”

“Aiwa, you would come up to a group of us who were playing and shout ‘Leave this place or die!’”

Kazeem chuckled. “It never worked, did it? But it was good practice for times like today.” 

Before long, the five men were on their way through the morning streets of Cairo to Abdul’s. As they walked, Benyamin regaled the group with stories of fabulous meals he had eaten at the café. 

“I think you enjoy your visits to Abdul’s more than the time you spend at Reyah’s,” Kazeem teased.

“Was it not that French general Napoleon who said that an army travels on its stomach?” replied Benyamin. “If his warriors had had Abdul to cook for them, they could have conquered the world!”

At the restaurant, Abdul’s grandson Rafi greeted the five warriors and showed them to a table. Kazeem was glad that he no longer looked around for his father or grandfather when someone said ‘Sayyid’, since he was soon surrounded by Abdul, his wife, their children, and their grandchildren, all offering their congratulations. 

There were some other patrons in the restaurant, mostly European tourists, Most of them looked over at the commotion coming from Kazeem’s table and quickly looked away. Even in the restaurant, the Medjai still wore their scimitars.

“I fear we are scaring your guests,” said Kazeem. 

“Who cares?” replied Abdul. “They are sometimes more trouble than they are worth.”

“But at least they pay you,” answered Kazeem. Kazeem knew his family was never charged when they ate at the café. 

“I would rather have your company than their coins,” said Abdul. “But you must be hungry. I have something I would like to try out on you.” With that, Abdul herded his family back to their jobs and went back to the kitchen.

“He’s Medjai, you know,” Benyamin said to Ehab and Nazir.

“Why does he have no marks?” asked Ehab.

“He met his wife before he took his vows. She’s Italian, so they could not live among us in the desert. But Yusef’s father bought Abdul this place so he could keep an eye out on…..them.” Benyamin glanced at the other customers, most of whom had decided they were done with their meals and were hastily leaving.

“That is not right,” said Nazir. “Such women should only be used for pleasure.”

The other four men looked at Nazir. 

“Do not speak that way,” admonished Kazeem. “We are guests here, and Abdul is our host. We will treat him accordingly.”

Nazir scraped his chair back from the table. “I find I have lost my appetite,” he said, standing up. “I will wait outside for you, if that is acceptable…….Sayyid.” Nazir said this last word as if it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Very well,” said Kazeem. 

Nazir walked stiffly out of the restaurant. The four other men sighed with relief when he was gone.

“I must apologize to you,” Kazeem said to Ehab. 

“What for, my lord?” answered Ehab.

“You have only recently come to our village, and I do not want you to think that Nazir’s behavior is acceptable among Medjai of the First Tribe.”

“Sayyid,” replied Ehab. “The Seventh Tribe is not as large, nor as prosperous, as the First Tribe. But his behavior would not be acceptable in my village, either.”

“The Seventh Tribe!” exclaimed Benyamin, interrupting. “I did not realize you were from there. My Ume is from there.”

“Aiwa, and she is quite famous,” replied Ehab. “There are so few women warriors, she is a source of pride in our village.”

“Well then, perhaps we are truly cousins!” Medjai normally called each other ‘cousin’ when there were outsiders present or when they were unsure of the other person’s name. 

Without Nazir’s scowling presence, the four men settled into an easy conversation, broken only when Abdul returned with a cart laden with plates.

“A friend of mine, a Hebrew, told me about this,” Abdul said, as he passed plates around laden with eggs, flatbread, and some sort of meat strips. “It is supposed to taste like bacon, but it is Kosher, so it is also Halal.”

Although most Medjai did not strictly follow Halal practices, the consumption of pork products was universally prohibited. 

“I have asked some of my customers who eat bacon to try it, and they have said it is tasty enough, but not quite the same,” continued Abdul. “You will tell me your opinion.”

Kazeem, Yusef, and Benyamin had eaten Western style food at Abdul’s in the past. Apparently, even though European tourists wanted what they considered authentic Egyptian food for lunch and dinner, they still demanded dishes such as fried eggs or pancakes for breakfast. 

Ehab poked at the eggs with his fork. “There are no beans,” he finally announced.

“This is not Ful Medames, but I can get you that if you want,” said Abdul, who was hovering near the table.

“La, la, this is very good,” Ehab said. He picked up a piece of the ersatz bacon and put it in his mouth.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Abdul.

“It’s quite salty,” said Ehab. “Not what I expected.”

Abdul’s face fell for a moment, but then he smiled. “Oh I know what you boys prefer. You like all the pastries my wife and daughters make.”

“Aiwa,” replied Kazeem, relieved that they were no longer discussing bacon. “In fact, Rais fed me some anise cookies that were delicious. I would like to bring some back home if possible.”

Abdul thought for a moment. “Those have a frosting glaze on them, which would not survive the trip back to your village. I will have Giuliana make a batch with just powdered sugar on the top.” Then, seeing Kazeem’s disappointed expression, he added, “I will have her write down the recipe for the frosting for the Sayyidah. It is not difficult to make. And I will send along a packet of those sprinkles.”

“So tell us about these cookies,” said Benyamin, once Abdul had left.

“Remember that tea our Umes used to give us when we had upset stomachs? Well Rais says they are made with the same spice.” Kazeem looked around the table. “But they are delicious! Trust me.”

“Of course, my lord, whatever you say,” Yusef said in his most serious voice.

“And what have you done since you became a warrior, my son?” said Benyamin to Ehab, pretending to be the other man’s mother. “Well, I have visited a brothel and eaten strange food, just the usual,” Benyamin said in a lower, masculine voice.

“I think I shall not tell my Ume about the brothel,” replied Ehab.

“Good idea, cousin,” said Benyamin.

After breakfast, Kazeem and the other men rose to leave. When Ehab went to take his coin pouch out of his robe, Kazeem put his hand out to stop the other man. “Do not even bother,” said Kazeem. “Abdul says it insults him when we try to pay him. I imagine his son Tony will be the one coming to the garrison later. We will pay Tony, Abdul can pretend he knows nothing about it, and everyone will be happy.”

The four warriors emerged from the restaurant, and Kazeem looked up and down the street. “I believe if I have to say ‘where is Nazir’ again I will explode,” he said quietly to Yusef. “He is more trouble than that goat my sister used to chase around.”

When Yasmeen was eight years old, she decided to make a pet out of one of the half-grown kids that was part of the village herd. The goat had other ideas. For the next few weeks, Yasmeen and her friend Shareen spent most of their free time trying to catch the unlucky object of their affections. 

“Whatever did happen to that goat?” asked Yusef.

“I think we ate him, but do not tell Yasmeen,” replied Kazeem. Since many of their goats ended up as dinner, the Medjai tended not to develop the close relationships with them as they had with their horses.

“I do not think that solution would work here,” said Yusef.

The four men stood in front of the restaurant for a few minutes until Benyamin noticed Nazir not far down the street, talking to a woman. As the group approached, it was apparent that the woman was a prostitute, and not type that lived in a house such as the Pharaoh’s Jewel.

“This is Munisah,” Nazir said in introduction.

“That’ll be extra, y’know.” The woman had her arm around Nazir’s waist as if in affection, but it was obvious even to Ehab that she was trying to locate Nazir’s money pouch under his robe.

“We must be on our way,” said Kazeem. “We have a long ride ahead of us. It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said to Munisah.

“You’re a cute one, but way too serious,” replied the woman. “Nazir here seems like he would be much more fun. Though I bet you’d be fun too, wouldn’t you? You’re quite a biggun.” She poked a finger decorated with red nail polish at Ehab.

Ehab cringed and took a step back.

“Nazir,” Kazeem tried again. “We must be going. Now.”

Nazir pulled Munisah to him and kissed her loudly. “I will make sure to find you the next time I am in Cairo,” he promised.

As Nazir rejoined the other men, he proclaimed, “Now that’s the kind of woman I like. She’ll do anything if the price is right.” He turned to Yusef. “You have two wives, I’ll wager you know what I mean.”

Yusef’s blade was in his hand and at Nazir’s throat before the other man could take his next breath. “You will not talk about my wives,” he said between gritted teeth. “You will not even think about my wives. Is that clear?”

“Hey, I meant no harm,” Nazir protested, looking down at the blade against his neck.

“Yusef,” Kazeem said, gently placing his hand on Yusef’s sword arm. “Please lower your weapon.”

Yusef lowered his blade. “My apologies, my lord,” he said, earning him raised eyebrows from Kazeem. 

“Can we please go to the souk now?” asked Benyamin, attempting to break the tension.

As they walked towards the maze of shops and stalls, Yusef whispered to Kazeem, “I am truly sorry, nephew, that I let my temper get the better of me.”

Kazeem gave a small smile at the fact that Yusef was referring to him as ‘nephew’ again rather than ‘my lord’.

“If I had wives such as you do, uncle,” he replied. “I am sure my blade would spend more time in my hand than in its sheath.”

At the back of the group, Nazir leaned over to Ehab. “Do you want to know what that woman offered to do?”

Ehab shook his head. “La, that is alright.”

Nazir snickered. “You would be surprised what they will let you do when you pay them enough.”

Ehab shuddered. His first time with a woman had been the night before, and had been eye-opening, to say the least. He did not want to spoil the memory of what was a most pleasant experience with whatever Nazir had to say. “I think I will wait and find out for myself,” Ehab finally said.

“That’s the way, I think there’s hope for you yet.”

“I certainly hope not,” Ehab whispered to himself.

Once they reached the souk, the men separated. Yusef headed for the stalls Rais had mentioned which sold baby things. Kazeem had both his mother’s and his sister’s lists, as well as some items he needed to purchase for himself. Benyamin, Ehab, and Nazir were given money, along the task of purchasing the remaining supplies. Nazir immediately walked away from the other men, who made no move to stop him. 

“Benyamin, you are my friend, is that not so?” Ehab asked, switching to what the Medjai called Our Language so no one else would understand.

“I hope so, cousin,” replied Benyamin, enjoying the smile he got when he called Ehab by that epithet.

“Can you explain something to me?”

“I’ll certainly try.” 

“What did Nazir mean about women doing anything if the price was right?”

Benyamin hesitated. He had been expecting a question about what Jamila laughingly referred to as “Medjai stuff.”

“Did your father ever talk to you about what men and women do together?” Benyamin asked.

“My father died many years ago.”

“Do you have any older brothers?” Benyamin asked hopefully.

“La, just a younger sister.”

Benyamin took a deep breath. “When you were with that girl last night, did she take you in her mouth?”

Ehab smiled broadly. “Aiwa! That was marvelous! But I, well I…..She said it was alright and then…….” Ehab paused. “Is that what Nazir meant?”

“La, la. You know a woman has another place, behind….” Benyamin waved his hand in the general direction of his backside.

Ehab gasped. “That is haram! (unlawful) And it would hurt the woman.

“Some men do not care about our religious beliefs, and some men do not care about whether they hurt the woman. They care only about their own pleasure.” Both men unconsciously looked in the direction Nazir had gone.

“I had much pleasure last night, and I do not think I hurt the girl I was with. But she said I was very big. Do you think I hurt her?”

“Ehab, they always say we are very big, and I know Medjai have that reputation. But remember, cousin, that is where a baby comes out, and even our Chieftain is not that large.”

“Shukran, Benyamin. I enjoyed myself very much last night, but I would not like to think I caused any pain.”

“Do you know who was always a favorite with Reyah’s girls? Before he was married, they would fight over Yusef. He always treated them with courtesy and respect. Even now, they would rather spend the evening playing cards with him than earning money entertaining customers.”

Ehab nodded in understanding.

“And he is Medjai,” Ehab said. “So Yusef must also have a big…..”

Both men laughed.

“Now let’s go get the rest of what is on this list,” said Benyamin, pulling a paper out of his robe. Kazeem had taken the original list, crossed of those items on hand at the garrison, and copied the remaining items onto a new piece of paper.

Ehab looked over the other man’s shoulder. “That is not Arabic,” he said.

“You don’t read English?” Benjamin said in surprise. Kazeem was planning to attend university in America, and used every excuse to practice his English writing.

“La, by the time we had enough teachers, I was too old, my father was gone, and I was needed at home.”

“Don’t worry, my aunt Zahara runs a school, and she has special classes for warriors who want to learn to read and write English.”

“And her husband allows her to be with other men without him being present?”

“There’s always at least one other woman there, sometimes even my Ume, or the Sayyidah……”

“The Sayyidah teaches reading and writing?”

“Actually, she teaches hieroglyphics and Hieratic, when anyone cares to learn. English is easy by comparison. Did you know, the letters look the same no matter where the fall in a word?”

Ehab thought for a minute, then smiled. “If your aunt will allow me to be in her class, I would very much like to learn to read and write English.”

“I’m sure she will. Now let’s see what we have here.” Benyamin quickly scanned the list. “I know where we can get most of these items, and then we can do some shopping for ourselves.”

Ehab looked around. “There are so many stalls, how do you know where to start?”

“You’ve never been here, have you?” asked Benyamin.

“My tribe is far from here. We always waited for a caravan to come, or supplies from other tribes. The Chieftain has always been generous in sharing what the richer tribes have with the less fortunate.” 

As Chieftain, Ardeth Bay made sure that the surpluses of one tribe, especially in terms of food, did not go to waste. Benyamin remembered going on more than one trip to other tribes to deliver a caravan laden with grain and other supplies. 

“Well now you have everything you could possibly want to buy right here,” said Benyamin. “You could buy something for your girl back home.”

“I do not have a girl,” replied Ehab, blushing. 

“That’s alright, neither do I yet. But you know, the girls of the First Tribe are the most beautiful. Maybe you will find one in our village!”

For a moment, the face of a slender girl with long curly hair and eyes the color of the sky at dusk flashed through Ehab’s mind, but he tried to ignore it.

Eventually, Benyamin, Ehab, and Nazir met up by a stall that sold farm implements.

“Pah, Medjai are not farmers. We are warriors,” complained Nazir, looking at his list.

“There are just a few things we need here that our blacksmith cannot make,” said Benyamin. “After all, warriors need to eat.” Benyamin picked up a hoe that had a different shape than he had seen before. “I think we will take this,” he said to the shopkeeper.

When they were done bargaining for their purchases, Benyamin turned to the other men. “This is our last stop. We should be getting back to the garrison now.”

“I am not carrying a hoe,” protested Nazir.

Benyamin took the offending implement, held it part way down the handle, and swung it around as if it were a sword. “You know, if it was sharpened just a bit, this would make a good weapon.” He finished his motion with the blade of the hoe inches from Ehab’s neck. Ehab did not even flinch. Benyamin was known for his easygoing manner, and sometimes people forgot who his father was. Musaid was considered one of the best swordsmen among the Medjai in recent memory, second only to Humam himself. Benyamin had inherited his father’s skill and benefited from his tutelage. When Benyamin picked up a blade, the self-effacing youth disappeared and the deadly Medjai warrior emerged.

“My mother teaches a class to the women of the village,” Benyamin explained, lowering the hoe. “She shows them how to use everyday items to defend themselves. I think I will get another one of these for her.” Benyamin turned to the shopkeeper. “Do you have another one just like this?” he asked.

“Of course, effendi,” said the shopkeeper. He looked at the three black-robed men who just by their presence were scaring away the other customers. “No charge, it is a gift.”

“Shukran,” said Benyamin, accepting the second hoe. He had long ago learned not to insult people by trying to pay for gifts.

When the three Medjai left, the store owner breathed a sigh of relief. It was true that the Medjai kept order in the souk, but their presence always had a dampening effect on business.

Kazeem and Yusef were already back at the barracks. Kazeem had commandeered extra horses and the various bundles were being distributed between them. Abdul’s son and grandson soon arrived carrying a number of boxes filled with pastries and other treats.

“My mother requests that you give this to the Lady Jamila,” said Tony, giving Kazeem a piece of paper.

“Shukran,” replied Kazeem, tucking the promised frosting recipe inside his robe. “I am certain my mother will appreciate this.”

Eventually, all the packages had been secured on the horses. Even Kazeem’s own horse Twig carried extra weight.

“I will take these myself,” Yusef said, indicating the parcels containing baby items that he had purchased. 

Nazir began to say something derogatory, but closed his mouth when he felt Benyamin’s gaze on him.

“We shall stop when we reach Haytham Oasis.” announced Kazeem as the men set out. This was a tiny oasis, no more than a patch of green in the desert, about half way between Cairo and the Medjai village. Kazeem knew that because the horses were laden with extra weight their progress would be slower than on the trip to Cairo.

Yusef, riding up front next to Kazeem, frowned.

“Do not worry, uncle,” Kazeem teased. “Sarra and Tali will not find another husband so soon.” 

“If anyone else said that…..” warned Yusef.

“Aiwa, I know, they would meet the sharp edge of your blade.”

“My apologies, nephew,” Yusef said. “Sometimes I think that one day they will decide they are tired of me and find a husband less serious, more entertaining.”

“I find you quite entertaining sometimes,” said Kazeem with a smile, earning him a gentle shove from Yusef.

It was almost dusk when the group reached the small oasis. Campaign tents were quickly set up. Benyamin and Yusef would share one, Ehab and Nazir the second, and Kazeem would sleep alone in the third. A campfire was lit and a supper of dried fruit and porridge was eaten, along with some of the pastries that Abdul’s son Tony had delivered to the garrison. 

After supper, Yusef took a deck of cards out of his robe. Even Nazir joined in as the men played some friendly games, although he complained when he learned they were not playing for money. When it was too dark to see, everyone retired to their respective tents. 

It was cold in the desert at night, and the men dug down into the sand a bit before laying out their bedrolls. Unlike the tents that served as homes for the Medjai, campaign tents had no floors. Kazeem felt content as he settled himself on the ground. As far as he was concerned, this was much more comfortable than the big, high bed in Cairo.

The next morning after breakfast, the tents were struck, the horses were again loaded up and the group set out anew.

As they rode across the desert, Kazeem noticed that he was not the only rider urging his horse to go faster. Eventually, a shimmer appeared in the distance, and Kazeem knew they were almost home. 

It was traditional when a patrol returned for the mothers, sisters, and daughters to greet the returning warriors with a bowl of water for them to drink from and wash off the dust of their journey. In the absence of family members, other women of the village would greet the returning men. 

Kazeem was just returning from Cairo, but Jamila was not going to miss the chance to greet her son in this way. “It’s his first time leading a group of warriors,” she told Ardeth. “It’s special.”

The Medjai Chieftain indulged his wife in many things, both large and small. This was such a small thing, and truth be told he thought it was a good idea, a way to recognize his son’s entering into manhood.

Of course, Sarra and Tali did not want to be left out. They had not seen their husband for almost three days and missed him terribly. 

Before long, Jamila had organized a group of women so that each of the returning warriors would be properly greeted: herself for Kazeem, Sarra for Yusef, Tali for Benyamin, Yasmeen for the big warrior whose name Jamila kept forgetting, and one of the other village girls for Nazir. Jamila knew Nazir’s name. She had heard him spoken about with concern by Ardeth and Kazeem. As for the other young warrior, Jamila was under strict orders not to call him ‘sweetie’.

“His name is Ehab,” said Ardeth. 

“I’ll try to remember, my husband,” said Jamila. 

The oasis that contained the Medjai village had been occupied by others at some time in the distant past. The ruined gates of an ancient city remained, as well as fragments of walls here and there. Before the men reached the gates, they were seen by the ever-vigilant sentries, who gave the signal that someone was approaching. By the pattern of their whistles, the sentries let the villagers know that it was a group of Medjai and not strangers or enemies.

Kazeem and the other warriors galloped into the village as if they had just emerged victorious from a battle. Even the pack horses seemed to be caught up in the excitement, although they trailed behind the others. 

There was a fenced in area to one side of the old stone gate, a place for men to leave their horses rather than ride them through the village. Novices were waiting as the riders dismounted, both to unload the supplies and to take care of the horses.

As Kazeem and his men exited the paddock, they were greeted by some of the villagers, including the Jamila and her contingent. Kazeem was only mildly surprised to see the women carrying bowls of water. And he was surprised to find that he was not even embarrassed by this show of affection, as he would have been when he was younger. 

Jamila walked up to her son. “I bring you the gift of water, brave warrior, so that you may drink and wash off the dust of your journey,” she said solemnly, holding the earthenware vessel out to Kazeem.

Just as seriously, Kazeem took the bowl and lifted it up to his mouth. “Shukran, my lady,” he said. After all, Jamila was not only his mother, she was also the wife of the Chieftain, and was due to be addressed with respect.

Kazeem then put his fingers in the bowl, wetting them, and swiped them across his face. The ritual being completed, he gave the bowl back to Jamila, who put it aside. 

“I think you grew three inches in the last three days,” Jamila said, breaking protocol to give her son a hug. Ardeth was a bit more than six feet tall and Kazeem was fast approaching that height. “Did you all come back in one piece?”

“For the most part.” Kazeem did not tell his mother that Ehab had left his virginity in Cairo. He would give his father a detailed report of everything that had gone on, and his father would tell his mother whatever he chose.

Jamila stood back and look at her son. “Yes,” she finally said. “You are definitely a warrior now.”

Nearby, Tali was fidgeting as she gave her brother his bowl of water. “Hurry up, I want to see Yusef,” she complained. 

“Now that’s a new way to greet a conquering hero,” joked Benyamin. 

“Brother, I know what you did in Cairo. You visited the brothel, you ate at Abdul’s, and you went shopping. Nothing heroic there.”

“Some of those shopkeepers were quite aggressive. Especially the one that sold me these.” Benyamin removed two scarves from his robe. “One for you, and one for Sarra,” he said, handing them to his sister.

“Oh shukran, brother, they are beautiful,” Tali said, examining the sheer material. “It’s not that I don’t want to see you, it’s just…..”

Benyamin laughed. “Go on, then. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

Tali attempted to walk sedately over to where her husband and sister were standing, and was almost successful, except for the last few steps. “You’re back!” she exclaimed,

“And he brought us presents,” added Sarra, indicating the pile of packages which Yusef had unloaded from his own horse.

“Those are for the babies, and also a little surprise for each of you,” said Yusef. “I fear I went overboard in the souk. Everything I saw for our coming children, I wanted to buy.”

“We have a surprise for you, too, husband,” said Tali. “But we cannot show you here.”

Yusef was intrigued. His wives’ surprises could range anywhere from a new dish they had learned to prepare to something decidedly naughty they had planned. “In that case,” he replied. “Let us retire to our tent.” 

Yusef bent down and began to gather up the bundles on the ground.

“Allow us to carry some of those, husband,” said Sarra, as she and Tali made to help.

“Are you certain you can do so safely?” asked Yusef. 

“We are pregnant, not crippled.” said Tali. “If you had your way, you would not let our feet touch the ground, but have us ride in a sedan chair, like the Pharaoh’s mistresses.”

“Aiwa, I would,” replied Yusef. He tried not to let it show, but since he had found out his wives were pregnant, he was terrified most of the time. He was used to being in control. He was the son of a Chieftain and the brother of another Chieftain. The blood of the original Kazeem Bay flowed through his veins. But what was happening to his wives, he could not control. 

Yusef had been a toddler when his sister-in-law Jamila had lost a baby through miscarriage. Even today, his family seldom talked about it. The thought that something like that could happen to his own wives or unborn children was almost too much for Yusef to bear. So he took care of Sarra and Tali as best he could, and prayed that Allah would protect them all.

Ehab was wondering which, if any, of the village woman was going to greet him when he was broken out of his reverie by a voice.

“Welcome home, brave warrior. I bring you water to drink and wash off the sand of your journey.”

“Shukran,” said Ehab automatically. He reached out to accept the offered bowl. It was at that moment that two things happened. As he went to take the bowl, his fingers touched those of the girl holding it, and he realized exactly who the girl was. Ehab drew his hands back in surprise, and the bowl tumbled to the ground.

“A thousand apologies, princess,” Ehab stammered, looking at Yasmeen’s wet robe.

“Do not concern yourself, it is just water,” Yasmeen replied. “Why do you call me princess?” 

“You are the daughter of my Chieftain,” Ehab said, more bravely than he felt. This was the girl whose face inhabited his dreams. “I am Ehab, from the Seventh Tribe.”

“Did you enjoy your trip to Cairo, Ehab?” asked Yasmeen.

“Aiwa, I had never been there. Have you ever been to Cairo? Of course you have.” Although most Medjai girls seldom left their villages, this was after all the Chieftain’s daughter.

“I have been there a few times with my parents,” replied Yasmeen, trying not to brag. “There are so many foreigners. I do not like them looking at me, so I go veiled the whole time.”

“It is very different from here,” agreed Ehab, attempting to keep the conversation going. “It was an honor to be asked to accompany the young Chieftain.”

“Oh, you mean Ky-Ky? Sorry, don’t tell him I still call him that. He’s a warrior now and I need to remember to call him Kazeem.” 

Ehab gazed down at Yasmeen, trying to memorize her every feature. He had seen her from afar but had never been this close to her. He knew she had long, black, curly hair, but up close it looked to Ehab like a river of silk. He knew that, unlike most Medjai, Yasmeen’s eyes were a dark, bluish grey, but he had never been close enough to notice how they crinkled at the corners when she smiled. And she was smiling. At him. As far as he was concerned, Ehab would rather have one smile from this girl than a thousand nights at the Pharaoh’s Jewel.

“Well, I should go change into something dry,” Yasmeen finally said. She had been looking over Ehab just as he was looking at her. His black hair was short and quite curly, and for a moment the thought came unbidden to Yasmeen that their babies would have curly hair. And he was big: taller than Yasmeen’s father the Chieftain by a few inches, and wider. Obviously, as a Medjai warrior, he was fit, and Yasmeen assumed he was well muscled under his black robes. Yasmeen decided to keep watch on the training ring for the next time Ehab was sparring.

“Again, I am sorry, princess. I hope the next time we speak it is under drier circumstances.”

Yasmeen laughed. “Please call me Yasmeen. I am not really a princess.” Yasmeen retrieved the fallen bowl and started to walk away. 

“You are my princess,” Ehab breathed. There was a breeze blowing in just the right direction, and it carried the young warrior’s whisper in Yasmeen’s direction.

Yasmeen’s conversation with Ehab had not gone unnoticed by Kazeem. He was very protective of his younger sister. Most of the young men who would have tried to court Yasmeen were deterred by the prospect of having to get past not only the Chieftain, but also Kazeem. But there was something about Ehab that made Kazeem pause, or more accurately a combination of things. Kazeem thought of how Ehab had taken coins from his own purse to give to the prostitute that Nazir had treated badly. There had also been times when Kazeem noticed Ehab going out of his way to help someone in the village, and he knew that Ehab would hold back during a sparring session when working with smaller warriors so as not to hurt them. 

Kazeem nodded to himself. As far as he was concerned, if Ehab wanted to court Yasmeen, he would have Kazeem’s blessing.

Nazir barely noticed the girl who had come to greet him, giving her only a curt ‘shukran’ when she offered him the traditional greeting and bowl of water. His attention was focused on Ehab and Yasmeen. He was jealous: first of Yusef, with not one but two beautiful wives; and now of Ehab, who seemed to have caught the eye of the Chieftain’s daughter. Nazir decided it was time he had a beautiful woman of his own.

When Yusef, Sarra, and Tali reached home, they heaped the packages in the corner that had been designated for baby items. Yusef planned to add an extra room before the babies were born. For now, there was a living area with a small kitchen at the back, and a sleeping area with an extra-large pillow bed. Sarra and Tali insisted that since they had slept together since they were born, they were not going to sleep separately just because they had acquired a husband. Yusef initially made some noises about the lack of privacy, but eventually admitted that there was almost nothing in the world he liked better than to wake up with both his wives snuggled up against him. 

Yusef knew warriors who complained that when they returned from a journey, their wives were only interested in what gifts the men had brought home, rather than the fact that their husbands had returned unharmed. As far as Sarra and Tali were concerned, the baby items could wait, as could whatever small trinkets Yusef was hiding in his robe. They were more interested in Yusef, and what they wanted to show him.

“Turn around and don’t look until we say so,” instructed Sarra.

Yusef complied. There was the sound of rustling fabric, then giggling.

“Alright, you can look now,” said Tali.

Yusef turned around. Both girls had pushed down their trousers and lifted up their tunics, leaving them bare from right under their breasts to their crotch. 

“You were busy while I was gone,” said Yusef, grinning at the sight of his wives’ swelling abdomens decorated with henna. 

“Do you like it?” asked Tali.

“Zahara did the Arabic and Jamila painted the hieroglyphics,” added Sarra.

Yusef could read the Arabic writing, which consisted of blessings and prayers for good health and an easy childbirth, but not the hieroglyphics. All Medjai warriors could read the ancient symbols that were tattooed on their faces and bodies, plus the ones having to do with Imhotep, but not much else. 

When Ardeth and Jamila were first married, Jamila had decided to learn to read and write hieroglyphics so she could translate the ancient name scrolls that were kept in the Tent of the Elders. Over the years, with Evelyn O’Connell’s help, Jamila had become proficient enough in both the written and oral form of the ancient Egyptian language that she sometimes held classes for anyone who wanted to learn it. Yusef, who was fluent in both Arabic and English, was more interested in studying military history than in learning another language.

“What do the hieroglyphics say?” asked Yusef. “I can tell the Arabic is the same on both of you, but not all the rest.”

Tali pointed to a spot under her left breast. “This is the symbol for Aten,” she said.

Yusef pointed to the same spot on Sarra. “Then that must be Thoth,” he said.

“Aiwa,” said Sarra. “I did not want a baboon, so Jamila gave me an ibis instead.”

“What is all that?” Yusef pointed to a line of hieroglyphics and ran from one hip to the other, right above each of his wives’ navels.

“That is something very private,” giggled Tali. “I am not sure it appropriate for a woman to speak of such to a man.”

“Not even a man who is your husband?”

“It says,” said Sarra, looking at her sister.

“It says,” repeated Tali.

“My husband fed me a big red fish,” both girls finished together, blushing.

“I do not see how that is so private,” said Yusef.

“Oh husband,” answered Sarra. “In ancient times, a red fish was another way of saying a man’s…..”

“His nose? His elbow?” Yusef knew what Sarra meant but could not resist teasing her. “I think you shall have to show me.” He held out his hands. “Come, my wives, and show me this red fish that has you blushing so prettily.” 

Sometime later, Tali extricated herself from the tangle of limbs on her bed. 

“Where are you going, my wife?” asked Yusef.

“Your son is dancing on my bladder again. I will be right back.”

“I will accompany you,” said Yusef, getting up and pulling on his trousers and tunic.

“There’s no need,” replied Tali, even though she knew it was useless to argue. Yusef had been protective of his wives before they became pregnant. Now, he took that protectiveness to new heights.

“Where is everyone going?” asked Sarra, opening her eyes and lifting her head off the bed.

“Stay here, sister, we are just going to the bathing tent,” answered Tali.

Sarra closed her eyes again. 

Once they were outside, Yusef turned to his wife. “You said son. Do you know something you have not told me?”

“La, la. But you know that Yasmeen is the only girl to be born to the House of Bay in generations, so the chances are good that we are both carrying boys.”

When they got back, Yusef and Tali found Sarra picking up and folding the hastily dropped clothes that were littering the tent. As Sarra picked up Yusef’s discarded outer robe, two small packages fell out into her hand, and a sheaf of papers went fluttering to the floor.

“Those are for you,” said Yusef, indicating the objects in Sarra’s hand. 

Sarra handed one to Tali and they each opened theirs.

“This is for you,” said Sarra, as she unwrapped the paper to reveal a pendant made out of a carved piece of amber hanging on a thin gold chain. 

“Then this one must be yours,” replied Tali. “But I am not sure what it is.”

“It is called moonstone,” supplied Yusef. “Although I do not think it is actually a stone from the moon.”

The girls each put their pendants on over their heads. “Now I will be able to tell you apart,” Yusef joked. Sarra and Tali were identical twins and even as adults they were difficult to tell apart. Yusef, however, had never had that problem.

“You do not have to bring us a present each time you are away from the village,” said Sarra, even though she knew it was futile to protest.

“It is my duty as your husband to ensure you are happy. Besides, it makes me happy to see you draped in gold.”

Yusef was sixteen and the girls were two years older. Yusef had recently taken his vows and received his marks and now the three of them were officially betrothed, although as far as Yusef was concerned they had been so for as long as he could remember. Yusef could not resist showing off for his future wives, so he took them out into the desert to a recently unearthed mastaba. It was not the tomb of anyone of particular importance, just a scribe or an overseer, but it was still filled with treasure. As long as Sarra and Tali were together, the requirement of chaperonage was somewhat satisfied, so the three young people were usually left to their own devices.

Yusef depressed one of the stones surrounding the almost invisible door. There was a scraping sound as the rock slid aside, exposing the inky darkness of the interior.

“Is it safe to go inside?” asked Tali.

“Of course it is, sister,” replied Sarra, always the bolder one. “It is safe, isn’t it, Yusef?”

“It is safe if you are with me,” bragged Yusef, more bravely than he actually felt. He had been here previously with his father and Musaid, but this was different. Still, he was a warrior now, and afraid of nothing.

Yusef lit the torch he had brought with him and led the girls down a few shallow steps into a small treasure room. The room was filled with offerings: vessels that had once held fragrant oils, jugs of long evaporated wine and plates that had once held food, clothing that crumbled at the touch, and the skeletons of a horse and a hawk. But what most captured the girls’ attention were the piles of golden objects which littered the floor and reached almost up to the low ceiling.

“Behold the riches of Egypt!” Yusef proclaimed, thinking that was the appropriate thing to say. “If you could take one thing from here, what would it be?” Although the Medjai protected places such as this from unscrupulous treasure hunters, they would sometimes take less important pieces of treasure for their own use.

Sarra and Tali looked at each other in unspoken agreement. “We would take you, khatib,” said Sarra. 

“Aiwa,” added Tali. “We don’t need any of this, as long as we are together.”

The three continued to look around for a short time, picking up this item of that, but always replacing them where they found them. As they were leaving, Yusef, walking behind the girls, bent over and picked up two slim gold bracelets. He would give them to Sarra and Tali on their wedding day. Whether they wanted to be or not, Yusef intended to spoil his wives-to-be.

“What’s that?” asked Tali, pointing to the sheaf of papers on the floor.

Yusef bent and scooped them up. “My brother asked me to locate something for him at one of the booksellers,” he said. “These are translations of ancient love poems. I believe there is even something about a red fish in one of them.”

“Jamila will like that,” said Sarra. “She says she loves to listen to Ardeth read to her.” Now that Sarra and Tali were married to the Chieftain’s brother, they were allowed to use Ardeth’s name in private.

“May we look at them?” asked Tali, reaching for the papers.

Yusef held them up out of reach. “These are for the Chieftain’s eyes alone,” he scolded. Then he reached down and pulled another packet of papers out of his robe. “It is a good thing the bookseller had more than one copy, do you not agree?” Yusef handed some of the pages to Sarra and the rest to Tali. “Some of these are poems written as from a man to a woman, and some are from a woman to a man. We shall take turns reading them to each other.”

..oo00oo..

Yasmeen soon fell into the habit of watching the young warriors train when she knew Ehab would be there. Ehab always walked over to the edge of the training ring to greet her, but never said much past ‘marhaban’ and a few words. 

Yasmeen’s best friend Shareen knew that Yasmeen had turned away a number of young men who wanted to court her. Yasmeen said she was waiting for the right suitor. It was obvious to Shareen, who had spent the past weeks watching her friend watching Ehab, that Yasmeen had already made her choice.

“I think he’s shy,” said Shareen, as they watched a sparring match one day. 

Yasmeen was distracted. Most of the warriors, including Ehab, had removed their tunics, and Yasmeen was paying more attention to Ehab’s muscles than she was to her friend’s words.

“I said,” repeated Shareen, poking Yasmeen in the ribs. “I think he’s shy.”

“Shy is good. I have no use for boasting warriors who think they will impress a girl with tales of great battles they have fought, when they could not fight their way out of a grain sack.” As opposed to her own shy behavior towards Ehab, Yasmeen was outspoken in her disdain for the other young men who tried to court her.

“I’ll be happy if any warrior wants to boast to me, about grain sacks or otherwise.” Shareen was not quite fourteen and she was impatient to be old enough to be courted.

“Shareen, your father will have to keep his blade sharpened at all times, and your tent will be filled with suitors.”

“Do you really think so? I’m not beautiful like you.”

Yasmeen made a face. She did not consider herself particularly beautiful. She thought her hair was too curly, her eyes were a strange color, and she was too skinny. Shareen, on the other hand, had straight hair, dark brown eyes, and even at the age of thirteen had a woman’s roundness.

“Well, Ehab thinks you’re beautiful,” continued Shareen. “He’s looking at you. Go on, wave.”  
Yasmeen gave a small wave and then hid her face in embarrassment. 

“You’re worse than he is,” said Shareen. “No wonder he has not asked permission to court you.”

“He will, I’m sure of it.”

After a short time, Shareen made to leave. “I need to go by the kitchen tent and see if I can get some baharat. We’re all out, and my Ume says she does not know when the next trader will come by.”

The warriors were now wrestling and Ehab was covered with a sheen of sweat.  
“I think I’ll stay a while longer,” said Yasmeen. 

Shareen turned and looked at the warriors in the training ring. “I knew you’d say that. Well don’t go running off with him without telling me,” she teased. 

Finally, the sun was getting low on the horizon and Yasmeen knew she would be wanted at home. She turned to leave and bumped into the warrior she had not noticed was standing behind her.

“Oh sorry,” she stammered, looking up. She recognized the man as one of the new warriors who had taken their vows with her brother Kazeem.

Yasmeen expected the usual ‘thousand pardons’ but all the man said was “I am Nazir. Your brother sent me. He needs your help. He has ordered me to escort you to the stables.”

“Alright. Let me get someone to come with us.” Yasmeen knew it was not proper for her to be alone with a man to whom she was not related.

“La, la. Your brother said you are to come alone. Now, we must hurry.” Nazir took Yasmeen by the arm. 

Yasmeen tried to pull away. This was all very inappropriate. Then she saw the knife in Nazir’s hand. “Do not cry out,” he hissed. “Pretend everything is fine, or I will gut you right here.” 

Yasmeen stilled, looking around wildly in the hopes that someone would see what was going on.

Nazir looked down at Yasmeen and nodded to himself. “Well, you’re a fine looking one. You’ll make me a good wife.”

“What?!” Yasmeen started to shriek but Nazir clapped his hand over her mouth. 

“Uskut! I am not a patient man, and you are trying what little patience I do have.” Nazir grabbed Yasmeen’s arm more tightly and hurried her along.

To Yasmeen’s dismay, they arrived at the stables without being noticed by anyone. She looked around for Kazeem, hoping that this was all just a cruel joke.

“There’s no one here to help you,” sneered Nazir. “You belong to me now. You’d better get used to it.”

A horse stood saddled in one of the stalls, and Nazir dragged Yasmeen over to it. Yasmeen struggled, but Nazir was still able to overpower her and hoist her up onto the saddle. “If you promise to behave,” he said. “I will not tie you.”

Yasmeen, from her perch atop the horse, tried to kick at Nazir, but the Medjai warrior easily grabbed hold of the girl’s ankle. “You are insane,” Yasmeen said. “My father will find you, and he will kill you. And then he will kill you again.”

“I don’t think so. Your father is not even here. And I have a plan. But for now, I think it would be best if I used this.” Nazir reached over and grabbed a length of rope that was hanging on the wall. After he tied Yasmeen to the saddle, he took a scarf from inside his robe and used it to gag her. “We don’t want to disturb anyone,” he said.

After he had Yasmeen securely tied, Nazir swung up into the saddle behind her. “We’re going for a little ride,” he said. “When we are far enough out into the desert, I’ll remove your gag.”  
Nazir had done a good job with the rope, and despite her squirming, Yasmeen was unable to get free. “I like my women feisty,” smirked Nazir. 

As they rode, Nazir stroked Jamila’s hair. “I always wondered, did the hair of the Chieftain’s daughter feel different? Now I know that it does. I shall take much pleasure in discovering what else about you is different from other women.”

Yasmeen tried to turn her head away from Nazir’s hand, to no avail.

After riding a bit farther, Nazir removed Yasmeen’s gag. “No one can hear you now. Scream all you want.”

Yasmeen turned around as much as she could. “You are a pig! You are a dog! You are a pig of a dog!” Yasmeen wished she knew some of the rude curses the men sometimes used, but figured she was getting her point across anyway.

It was almost dark when Nazir finally stopped. Yasmeen had kept up a steady stream of threats and deprecations, but all her words did were amuse her captor.  
“We’re here,” Nazir announced. 

Yasmeen looked around. Sometime before abducting her, Nazir had been here and had set up a tent. There was also a cold cook fire, and a sturdy post which had been driven deep into the sand. A chain was attached to the post, with a shackle at the other end large enough to fit around Yasmeen’s waist. Yasmeen could smell water nearby, but she could not see it.  
“Where is here?” Yasmeen asked, trying to sound brave.

“This is where I will take you as my wife, according to the old ways. The Medjai have lost touch with their traditions, making a play out of bride stealing. This is the way it should be.”

It was traditional for a man to pretend to abduct his betrothed and spirit her off into the desert, to be found after an appropriate interval by her father and other men of the village. The supposedly outraged father would threaten the groom, the new bride would insist that she was in love and consented to the marriage, and everyone would be happy. Sometime later, a Muslim ceremony would take place, but the couple was considered married according to Medjai custom after their time in the desert. “Conceived in the sand” was a common term, used to describe a baby born nine months afterwards. Jasmeen knew both her brother and her father held this distinction, and she shuddered when she realized what Nazir intended to do to her.  
Nazir dismounted and lifted Yasmeen off the horse. He carried her over to the post locked the shackle around her waist. “I would let you sleep in the tent with me, but I fear you would try to kill me in my sleep.”

“What if I have to, you know…..”

Nazir pointed to a small trough dug in the sand nearby. “The chain will allow you to reach over there. Oh yes, there’s one more thing.” Nazir reached out and untied Yasmeen’s sash. 

Yasmeen took a deep breath. 

“Don’t worry, princess, I am going to wait until tomorrow when it is light for that. I want to see your face as I relieve you of your innocence. What I am after is this.” Nazir shook the sash, and a small knife fell out. “Now I can untie your hands.”

Nazir picked up the knife and examined it. Medjai women normally carried a small “lady’s knife” hidden in their sashes, useful both for everyday tasks and also for protection. They were simple affairs: a metal blade and a leather wrapped handle in a leather sheath. Yasmeen’s knife was not simple. The blade was made of a gold alloy, similar to the traditional scimitar of a Medjai Chieftain. There was even more gold in the hilt, which was inlaid with turquoise and carnelian stones. This was not a knife one would use to scale fish, although the sharpness of the blade indicated that it was not merely a decorative object.

“This could be a Pharaoh’s blade,” said Nazir, running his fingers over the handle. 

“It’s mine. My brother gave it to me.”

“Ah, the great Kazeem Bay. Heir to the throne.”

“Keep the knife,” said Yasmeen. “You could sell it and get a lot of money. Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone what happened. Really.”

“Nothing has happened yet, princess.”

Yasmeen loved it when Ehab called her ‘princess’. The way Nazir spoke that word made Yasmeen feel like vomiting.

“They’re going to come looking for me, you know,” said Yasmeen.

“By the time they find you, it will be too late. You have two choices. You can either decide to accept me as your husband, or not. But if you do not…..your father will not take back a daughter who is no longer a virgin. No other man will have you. So you will choose to stay with me. And once I am your husband, I shall share in all your family’s fame and riches.”

“You know nothing about my father, or my family,” Yasmeen spat. Before Jamila met Ardeth, she had been the property of a cruel man who forced her into prostitution. Ardeth had rescued Jamila, fallen in love with her, and eventually married her.

“I know enough about the way men think. Even your precious Ehab will not want you.”  
Nazir walked over to the horse and removed the saddle and blanket. He returned to where Yasmeen was chained and dropped the blanket at her feet. “You can use this against the cold,” he said. 

“What about some food and water?” Yasmeen asked as Nazir turned to go into his tent.

“I think you will be more cooperative on an empty stomach. But here.” Nazir reached into the tent and took out a water skin. “Never let it be said that I let my woman be thirsty in the desert.” Nazir dropped the water skin by the horse blanket, then went into the tent.

Yasmeen took stock of her situation. She tugged on the chain as quietly as she could but it held fast to the post. The iron ring around her waist was fastened shut by an old padlock. Yasmeen felt like crying, but she did not. I need to be brave, she thought. I am Medjai. The blood of Kazeem Bay runs through my veins as much as through my brother’s. Someone will realize I am missing and they will come and rescue me. I just need to be brave. But oh, I do wish I were home in my own bed!

oo00oo..

The Medjai Chieftain and his second-in-command Musaid had been away from the village for two days. Jamila did not know where they had gone, or why. She trusted that her husband would return when his business was concluded, perhaps with some gold trinket for her, his robed probably stained with blood that was hopefully not his own. She had learned that it was better this way. Years ago, Amira had said to her new daughter-in-law, “He will tell you what he wishes you to know. What he does not tell you, it is better that you do not know.” Jamila initially chafed that these instructions, but soon realized that Ardeth shared with her much of what went on out in the desert. Given what her husband did speak of, Jamila soon decided that she did not want to know about the things he was keeping to himself.

In his father’s absence, Kazeem took over some of the Chieftain’s duties. One of his favorite tasks was making the rounds of the village both in the morning and at dusk. After walking through the common areas, he saddled Twig and rode around the edges of the settlement, listening for the whistles of the sentries as he passed their posts. Lastly, he set out straight into the desert, horse and rider melding together as one, until they reached their destination. From here, Kazeem could see the entire village. He turned his horse and sat for a moment, watching his home shimmer in the setting sun. 

Returning to the village, Kazeem stabled Twig and returned home. He was feeling refreshed from his ride out into the desert and looking forward to his mother’s cooking.

“Have you seen your sister?” Jamila asked as soon as Kazeem entered the tent.

“La, I have just come from making rounds and then I rode out into the desert.”

“She’s not here, and it’s time for supper.”

“Do not worry, she is probably at Shareen’s. They were down at the training ring earlier today.” Kazeem tried to keep track of Yasmeen in an unobtrusive way. “Do you want me to go get her?”

“If she is eating there, it’s no problem. I just wish she would let me know these things.” 

Kazeem knew that Jamila always felt anxious when his father was away, even though as the Sayyidah she tried to hide it.

“I will go retrieve her,” said Kazeem. 

Zahara came to the door of the tent when Kazeem knocked. “Good evening, young Chieftain. What can we do for you?” she said.

Kazeem thought it strange that the woman who was one of his teachers when he was a child now treated him so respectfully. 

“Is my sister here? I understand she was with your daughter earlier.”

“La, she’s not here. Shareen,” Zahara called. “Do you know where Yasmeen is?”

Shareen came to the door. “Good evening, young Chieftain,” she said, imitating her mother. “Yasmeen and I were at the training ring this afternoon. I had to leave to get some spices for dinner but Yasmeen was going to stay a while longer.” Shareen paused. “She was watching Ehab, but please I don’t want her to get in trouble because I told you that.” 

Kazeem was aware of the budding romance between his sister and the young warrior, and had no objections to it. But he was concerned that Yasmeen and Ehab might be together without proper supervision. Kazeem liked Ehab as a person, and respected him as a warrior. But he knew without a doubt that he could easily kill him if Ehab dishonored Yasmeen.

“Do not be concerned, Shareen,” replied Kazeem. “My mother just wants her home for dinner. But please, if you see her, ask her to return home.”

Kazeem walked over to the barracks, even though he would have preferred to run. He did not want to seem overly concerned when there was probably a good reason for Yasmeen’s absence. When he entered the barracks, he found Ehab relaxing with a group of other warriors.  
Ehab immediately rose. “Good evening, Sayyid,” he said. “My kinsman from the Seventh Tribe has recently arrived here and I was introducing him to the other men.” He pulled a warrior to his feet. “This is Jad,” he said.

Kazeem nodded politely to the other man. “Ehab, do you know where my sister is?” It was obvious that if Ehab was here, Yasmeen was not with him.

“La, she was at the training ring earlier today with her friend. Then I did not see her,”

“What did you do when you were finished training?” Kazeem asked.

“I went to the bathing tent, then Jad and I had supper, then we returned here.

That was easily verified. Ehab was wearing just his tunic and trousers, and looked as if he recently bathed. Ultimately, Kazeem did not really suspect him of any wrongdoing.  
“And you did not see my sister anywhere in the village?”

“La, I am sorry, Sayyid,” Ehab replied with a concerned expression.

Kazeem, meanwhile, was looking around the barracks. All the warriors were present. Then he stopped. One warrior was missing.

Kazeem got a sick feeling in his stomach. “Where is Nazir?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

The other warriors looked around. “He is not here, my lord,” one of them said.

“Where does he sleep?” asked Kazeem.

Ehab indicated a cot towards the end of the room. Warriors were allowed to choose where they would sleep, and apparently Nazir had chosen to sleep away from the other men.

Kazeem went over to Nazir’s sleeping area and looked around. “Some of his belongings are missing,” said Kazeem, ignoring the buzzing that had started in his head. “Does anyone know if he was planning on going somewhere?”

The other men looked at each other and shook their heads. Then Jad spoke up.

“I only just met that warrior. He bragged to me about a place he had out in the desert. He said it was by two outcroppings that looked like, that looked like a woman’s breasts.” Jad blushed as he spoke the last words.

Somewhere in the back of his mind Kazeem wondered if everyone from the Seventh tribe was shy, but he put that thought aside for another time.

“I know that place,” said Kazeem. “My grandfather calls it Shuangru Pass, after a place in China that he read about.” He turned to Ehab. “I assume you wish to accompany me.”

“Aiwa, my lord.” Ehab’s quickly went over to his cot, shrugged into his robe, and began to gather his weapons. 

Kazeem looked at Ehab’s kinsman. If he was anything like Ehab, Jad would be a good man to have with him. “I could use an extra warrior at my side,” Kazeem said.

“I am honored, Sayyid,” replied Jad. “Ehab has told me about your sister.” 

Ehab, from across the room, shot a sharp look in Jad’s direction.

“I mean no disrespect, my lord,” added Jad. He quickly excused himself and went to get his own robe and weapons.

Kazeem was only partially listening. He was already moving, out of the barracks and to the stables. Ehab and Jad hurried to catch up with him.

News travels fast in a Medjai village. Twig had already been saddled again, along with two of Kazeem’s other horses. Along with the horses, Yusef and Benyamin were waiting with their own mounts.

“We will come with you, nephew,” stated Yusef.

“La, I need you to stay here, in case Yasmeen returns. We do not know for certain that she is with Nazir. If she returns, one of you will come and get us. We are headed to Shuangru Pass.”  
“But nephew,” Yusef began to argue.

“I have two brave warriors with me. There is only one Nazir. I have made my decision. And please, I need you one of you to stay with my mother tonight.”

“Of course, Kazeem,” Yusef said, dipping his head. No matter that he was older, in matters of importance he would always defer to his Chieftain.

The three warriors mounted their horses.

“Yalla! Imshi!” called Kazeem, and away he galloped into the darkness, not even tempted to look behind him.

“What is China?” asked Jad, as he and Ehab followed after Kazeem.

“I have no idea,” replied Ehab. 

..oo00oo..

It seemed to Kazeem as if he had been riding forever, but it was only a few hours. Twig was a big chested horse, able to run at a steady pace for long periods of time. The other two horses had been sired by Twig, and took after their father in that respect. The three horses thundered through the desert, throwing up clouds of sand. Kazeem and his companions had pulled up their veils upon leaving the village to protect their faces, and all that was showing was their eyes.

Kazeem tried not to think about what might have happened to his sister. He concentrated on the sound of his own breath under the cloth covering his nose and mouth and the hoof beats of his horse under him. He assumed Ehab and Jad were behind him, but found it impossible to turn his head back for even a moment lest he miss one of the landmarks that would lead him to his destination.

Ehab, on the other hand, spent his time in the saddle thinking of ways to kill Nazir. Ehab had never killed a man, neither in battle nor in personal combat. But he knew he would have no qualms about killing anyone who hurt the girl with whom he was falling in love.

Jad was riding near enough to Ehab that they could talk. Medjai trained their horses early on to run in close formation without knocking into each other. 

“What are you thinking about, cousin,” asked Jad, noticing how Ehab was clutching the reins so tightly that his hands had turned white under his tattoos.

“I am deciding whether I would rip Nazir’s legs off first, or his arms.”

Jad had no doubt that Ehab could do either easily. He had seen his friend easily restrain a newly purchased horse so it could be gelded. “I believe that honor will belong to our young Chieftain.”

Both men gazed up ahead to where Kazeem was riding. He had not said a word nor looked back since they left the village. Kazeem trusted that his men were following him, but truthfully he did not care. He would find Nazir, and if Nazir had taken Yasmeen, Kazeem would kill him. It was as simple as that. Having the other two men along was a luxury, but not a necessity.  
The desert was dark now, with the moon casting the only light. That was enough for Kazeem to find his way, and eventually the two rock formations came into view. Kazeem signaled for the other riders to halt, He wheeled Twig around and motioned for silence. Sound could carry a long way in the vast empty space of the desert.

Kazeem pointed to a small camp barely visible in the moonlight, and began to edge his horse carefully towards it. Ehab and Jad followed close behind. The three horses were as silent as their riders. 

As the three men quietly rode into the campsite, they could see a small tent with a horse tethered nearby, a cold campfire, and a pile of blankets next to a rough post. It seemed a trick of the moonlight when the blankets moved, but then a sound came from under them.

Ehab was off his horse and running before the other two men had stopped, no longer caring if he made any noise. He carefully lifted an edge of the blanket and found Yasmeen blinking up at him. Ehab pulled Yasmeen gently to her feet. He looked down and saw the shackle around her waist, and without thinking grabbed the lock holding it closed and tore it open with his bare hands.

The lock was old and no match for Ehab’s strength. It fell to the ground in a shower of rust and bits of metal. Then Ehab carefully removed the shackle from around Yasmeen’s waist.  
Yasmeen threw her hands up in front of her face and backed away, eyes wide. “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged.

Ehab realized his veil was still covering his face and quickly pulled it down. “It’s just me, princess,” he said softly.

“I thought, I thought…..” Yasmeen looked down at Ehab’s hands, which had been cut by the jagged pieces of the lock. “Your hands, they’re bleeding.” Yasmeen picked up Ehab’s hands and held them to her face.

Ehab thought that if he were struck dead in the next moment, he would die a happy man. The feel of Yasmeen’s lips on his hands rendered him speechless. “I…..I…..” was all he could manage to say.

“Well isn’t this touching,” came a voice from the door of the tent. Nazir had been woken by the commotion outside. “Did you come to save your little whore? Well it’s too late, I’ve already had her.”

Yasmeen frantically shook her head. “No he hasn’t. He said he wanted to wait until first light, until he could see me…..” Yasmeen faltered.

Ehab put his arms around Yasmeen, tentatively at first, and then more boldly when Yasmeen responded by trying to burrow into Ehab’s robe. “It doesn’t matter, habibti. Nothing could change the way I feel about you.” 

Yasmeen’s eyes opened even wider. Ehab had always called her by her own name, or ‘princess’, but had never referred to her in such a romantic way.

Nazir, meanwhile, had grabbed his scimitar and was advancing on the couple. “Are you willing to fight me for her? I’ve seen you in the training ring. You are as slow as you are dumb.”

“I am neither slow, nor am I dumb. And since it is my sister whom you abducted, it is my right to challenge you,” Kazeem announced from atop his horse.

Nazir whirled around. He had not noticed Kazeem or Jad in the dark. “Very well,” he smirked. “I think this will work out very well. After I kill you, I will not only have Yasmeen, I will become the next Chieftain of the Twelve Tribes.” He looked at Jad. “When we’re done, if he’s dead, you’re welcome to join me.”

Kazeem turned to Jad and said quietly, “When we are done, if I am dead, kill him.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Jad said. 

Nazir puffed out his chest, not realizing that Jad had spoken in answer to Kazeem. “You see, not every warrior blindly follows you.”

Kazeem glanced over at his sister, who was sobbing quietly. Ehab had his arms around her and was speaking softly to her. “Take care of her,” he called out to Ehab.

Ehab nodded and wrapped his arms even more tightly around Yasmeen. “Don’t watch,” he whispered down into her hair.

Yasmeen twisted around in Ehab’s grasp, wiping her eyes. “I have to. Do you understand? I have to see.”

Ehab loosened his hold. “A thousand pardons. I forgot for a moment that you were the daughter of our Chieftain.” Ehab paused. “But you are still my princess and I have promised your brother that I will take care of you.”

Yasmeen leaned back against Ehab, still wrapped in his arms. The top of Yasmeen’s head came up just under Ehab’s chin, and she rested it back on his chest. “I will hold you to that promise,” she said. With Ehab’s arms around her, Yasmeen felt safe.

Medjai sometimes spoke of the sense of being in a trance when in battle, able to fight without fear and with indifference for their own safety. That was the way Kazeem felt as dismounted, as if the whole world had fallen away, leaving just himself, his weapon, and Nazir. 

Years earlier, after Ardeth had returned home from a particularly bloody encounter, Kazeem had asked him if it was easy to kill someone.

“It is surprisingly easy,” Ardeth had replied. “The merest strike of the blade to the right place, and it is done. It is the afterward that is difficult. The faces of the men you kill will forever stay in your mind.”

Somehow, Kazeem did not think that would be a problem in this case.

Nazir was a bit taller than Kazeem and more heavily muscled. Neither of these traits afforded a significant advantage in a duel. Kazeem was a skilled swordsman. He had been training with a blade since he was old enough to carry the wooden toy he received as a toddler. His teachers were Musaid and Humam, two of the greatest swordsman the Medjai had known. And lastly, he had something that very few people had: he was a direct descendant of the first Chieftain of the Twelve Tribes.

“I’ll make this quick,” taunted Nazir, as the two men began circling each other. “I have more enjoyable plans for later.”

Kazeem did not reply. He knew that Nazir was saying something, but the words were meaningless to him.

There was infinite space between the seconds, infinite time for Kazeem to parry Nazir’s thrusts. At one point Kazeem felt a wetness on his chest, and dimly registered he must have been cut. This did not slow him down. If anything, it fueled his resolve.

And then it was ended. Kazeem, chest heaving, stood over Nazir. Nazir lay gasping on the ground, unsuccessfully trying to keep his intestines from tumbling out of the gaping wound in his abdomen.

Kazeem shook his head like he was waking from a dream. He looked at his dripping scimitar as if uncertain how it had come to be in his hand, then down at the man before him.

“Why did you do this, Nazir?” Kazeem spoke gently, as if scolding a child.

“I wanted,” weakly replied Nazir. “I wanted to be, to have, to……” Nazir’s last words were obliterated by a final moan.

Kazeem looked away from the body in the sand. 

Ehab and Yasmeen were still standing together. When Kazeem’s gaze swung over to them, Ehab quickly removed his arms from around Yasmeen’s waist.

“What of you, cousin,” asked Kazeem. “What do you want?”

Ehab looked dubiously at the bloody weapon that Kazeem was idly swinging back and forth, but was somewhat heartened by the fact that Kazeem had referred to him as ‘cousin’.

“I have everything I could ever want, my lord,” Ehab replied, casting a quick glance down at Yasmeen.

Yasmeen had been frozen in place during the fight, not wanting to move or even breathe lest she draw her brother’s attention away from Nazir. Now she rushed to Kazeem, sidestepping Nazir’s lifeless form.

“Oh Ky-Ky, you’re hurt!” Yasmeen exclaimed. 

Kazeem looked down, noticing for the first time the slowly spreading stain on the front of his robe.

“Take that off!” Yasmeen may not have been a Medjai chieftain, but she could give orders like one. She turned to Jad. “You, warrior! Look in your Chieftain’s saddlebags.” Yasmeen knew that her father’s friend James White had sent Kazeem what was called a first aid kit when Kazeem took his warrior’s vows. She hoped Kazeem was keeping it in his saddlebag.

“What am I looking for, my lady?” asked Jad, going over to Twig.

“It’s a white box with red markings on it.”

Jad was glad to be of some help, and emerged triumphantly from his search with the box in his hands.

Kazeem, meanwhile, had been cautiously relieved of his weapon by Ehab and was now sitting on a rock, stripped to the waist.

“That’s not so bad,” said Yasmeen critically, squatting down in front of her brother . “Doesn’t even need stitches. Your robe took most of it.”

Yasmeen rummaged through the box of supplies and took out a tin of sulfa powder and some gauze, which she handed to Jad. With the young warrior assisting, Yasmeen sprinkled the powder on the cut on Kazeem’s chest and covered it with the gauze. “Hold your hand right there,” she instructed Jad, placing his hand over the gauze on Kazeem’s chest.

Yasmeen went into Nazir’s tent and quickly emerged with her sash in one hand and her knife in the other. After putting the knife down on the rock next to Kazeem, she wrapped and tied her sash around her brother’s chest. “That one took my sash, and my knife, the one you gave me.” She picked up the jeweled dagger and looked over at Nazir’s body.

The three men took a collective breath. They knew the penalty for rape, or attempted rape, and what Nazir had done certainly qualified. It did not matter whether Nazir was dead or alive, Yasmeen would be within her rights to exact the punishment. 

Yasmeen walked over to the dead man. “I would not dirty my blade on one like him, although it would please me to send him to the afterlife without all his parts.” She slid the sheathed knife into a pocket of her tunic. Then she kicked Nazir’s body as hard as she could between his legs.

Kazeem had put his tunic and robe back on, and now he walked over to where Yasmeen was standing. Reaching down, he snapped the amulet off of Nazir’s neck. “We shall return this to his family, and let the jackals have the rest of him. Perhaps there will not be much left for Anubis to take.” Even though the Medjai had accepted the Muslim faith generations ago, they still had respect for the gods of ancient Egypt.

“Can you ride?” Kazeem asked Yasmeen as they prepared to leave.

Yasmeen glanced over at Ehab. Things were back to normal, and she knew it would be improper to for her share a mount with him. “Can I have Twig?”

“Of course,” replied Kazeem, wincing a little as he saddled Nazir’s horse. “I will take this one.”

Twig was a big horse, and Yasmeen was tiny. Kazeem turned to Ehab. “Would you please help my sister onto my horse?” he asked. 

“As you wish, Sayyid,” replied Ehab, realizing that Kazeem was giving him one last moment of comparative privacy with Yasmeen. 

“I will be paying your father a visit when we return to the village,” Ehab said quietly as he lifted Yasmeen up so she could grab onto Twig’s saddle.

“It’s about time,” said Yasmeen, speaking without thinking. Then she turned and looked down at Ehab, expecting him to be offended by her words, but found that the young warrior was grinning up at her.

“You will not scare me off that easily, princess,” he said. “You heard what I told my Chieftain. You are everything I could ever want.” With that, Ehab turned with a smile and walked over to his own mount. 

Yasmeen smiled after him. Maybe something good would come out of this ordeal.

Kazeem and Yasmeen were riding up ahead of the others as they started for home. “You will see the healer when we return to the village,” said Kazeem.

“You’re the one who needs to see the healer,” replied Yasmeen.

“You will see the healer,” Kazeem repeated, in his no-nonsense, I am the Chieftain and I am to be obeyed voice.

“Brother, nothing happened.”

“You have said that, and I believe you. But there are those who may not. This will stop their wagging tongues.” Kazeem had also taken a few moments to inspect Nazir’s bedroll and found no evidence of blood or fresh semen on it, but he did not tell Yasmeen about that. 

“Alright, but I wish it could be Saleemah.” Saleemah had retired a few years earlier and her daughter Hessa had become the new healer.

“Do not feel bad, sister. After all, I shall also have to allow Hessa to examine me, and she is not much older than I am.”

“Are you shy?”

“La, la. But I fear she will be overcome by passion when she sees me without my robe.”

Yasmeen laughed. “I’m glad you are my brother, even if you are bossy,” she said.

“And I thank Allah every day that you are my sister,” Kazeem replied, smiling under his veil.

It was still night when the riders reached home, but the sentries outdid themselves with their whistles. It seemed as if the entire village had gotten out of bed to greet Kazeem and the others. The crowd parted for Jamila as she made her way to where her children were standing.

“Don’t ever do that again,” said Jamila, enfolding Yasmeen in a hug. For just a moment, Jamila remembered a younger version of herself in a similar situation. 

Jamila turned to Kazeem. “Shukran, my son,” she said. “Your father will be proud of you when he hears of this.”

“Can we go back to our own tents now?” Benyamin said. He, Yusef, Sarra, and Tali had just come through the crowd and were standing beside Jamila.

“We have been sleeping on the floor of your tent,” supplied Yusef. “Just as we did when we were children.”

“Aiwa, all that was missing was cookies and your grandfather reading to us,” said Sarra.

“We did not do much sleeping,” added Tali. She let out a yawn, earning her an indulgent smile from Yusef.

“I must go put my wives to bed,” said Yusef. “We will stop at my parents’ tent and at Fatima’s and let them know everything is alright.”

“Oh, don’t wake them,” said Yasmeen. “I’ve caused enough trouble already.”

“I’m sure they are still awake,” replied Jamila, her arms still around her daughter. “Even if they’re not, they will want to know that you returned safely. And Yasmeen, none of this was your fault.”

Yusef had moved so he was standing next to Kazeem. “Nazir?” he asked.

“What do you think?” replied Kazeem, briefly touching the handle of his scimitar where it protruded from his sash.

“I grieve with thee.” Yusef had killed before. He knew that even if Nazir’s death had been deserved, Kazeem would still feel some regret.

“Shukran, uncle. We will talk about this some other time.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Kazeem looked at Yusef as if seeing him for the first time. This was not the older boy who teased him mercilessly, nor the warrior to his novice who delighted in ordering him around, nor even the fellow Medjai who rode out with him on patrol. This was his second-in-command, closer than a brother, a man he could say anything to without fear of being judged.  
Kazeem knew that he could tell Yusef that he was glad he killed Nazir, or that he was sorry he killed Nazir, or even that he came close to vomiting as he watched Nazir take his last breath. Yusef would nod in that sometimes aggravating way of his and say something that was both sarcastic and loving, and whatever was bothering Kazeem would pass.

Kazeem looked over at Sarra and Tali, who were waiting patiently off to the side. They were familiar with the hushed conversations their father Musaid sometimes had with the Chieftain, and knew not to interfere.

“Attend to your wives,” said Kazeem, placing a hand on Yusef’s arm. “We could all do with some sleep.”

“Do you not have rounds to do in the morning?” asked Yusef.

“Aiwa.”

Both men looked at the sky, which was just beginning to show light in the distance.

“I will take your rounds for you,” Yusef said. “I will probably be awake, anyway. My wives find it difficult to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, and want me to take part in the experience with them.”

“Soon, you will be lucky if you get any sleep at all,” replied Kazeem. He remembered when Zahara’s and Sahmir’s younger son was born. 

“Nephew, I will enjoy every minute of it.”

“I know you will. You will be a good father, Yusef. Now go, your wives are waiting for you.”

The crowd dispersed. Kazeem followed his mother and sister back to their tent. “We will visit Hessa tomorrow,” he said, after inspecting the bandage around his ribs.

Jamila started to say something, but stopped. Then she turned to Yasmeen. “I will come with you, if you wish,” she said. 

“Right now, all I want is to sleep in my own bed,” replied Yasmeen.

The following day, Hessa declared that Yasmeen was still intact, silencing the villagers who liked nothing better than a juicy piece of gossip at someone else’s expense. She also examined Kazeem and told him his wound was minor, but he should take a few days off from sparring.

“Did she throw herself at your feet and profess her undying love?” asked Yasmeen when Kazeem exited the healer’s tent.

“La, but she did ask me if I knew any warriors who were looking for a wife.”

“Are you playing matchmaker now, brother?”

“Perhaps I will introduce her to Jad. He is a bit older than Yusef and not yet married.”

“Well, he didn’t faint when he was helping me bandage you up. He might be a good choice.” Some Medjai warriors who thought nothing of slitting an enemy’s throat in combat became squeamish when they came into contact with blood outside of the battlefield.

“And what about you, sister. Have you also made a choice?”

Yasmeen blushed. “You know I have, brother. Ehab says he will speak to our father when he and Musaid get back.”

“Ehab is a good man. But he is still a man, and you are my sister. In the meantime, as I am acting Chieftain, tell Ehab to come speak with me.”

That night Ehab presented himself at the Bay family tent. Kazeem, seated on a stack of pillows, thought that all he needed was a hookah to look like the sheik in the Arabian Nights storybook that his grandfather used to read to him.

“Masā' al-khayr, Sayyid,” Ehab said politely. 

“And to you, Ehab. Will you join me in some refreshments?”

“I would be honored.” Ehab sat down as gracefully as someone his size could on some nearby pillows. 

“Yasmeen,” Kazeem called. “Would you please bring us some Karakadey (Hibiscus Juice) and some of those cookies you baked?”

That was Yasmeen’s cue. She walked slowly in from the kitchen area carrying a tray with a jug of juice, two cups, and a plate of cookies.

“Shukran, sister,” said Kazeem, as Yasmeen set the tray down on a low table. Yasmeen poured two cups of juice and gave one to each of the men, being careful that her hand did not touch Ehab’s. Then she gave a small bow and left.

“My sister has many talents,” Kazeem remarked, offering Ehab the plate of cookies.

Ehab wanted to agree, but could not think of a way to do so that would not sound disrespectful. Instead, he took a cookie and put it in his mouth so he would not have to speak. When the cookie was gone, Ehab took a sip of the juice, then took a deep breath.

“My lord,” he began. “I have come here to speak with you about your sister.”

“My sister?” Kazeem feigned ignorance. “What about my sister?”

“Well, um, you see………” Ehab paled as he looked at the man sitting across from him. This was not the fellow novice with whom he had trained and taken his vows. This was not even the warrior that he had followed out into the desert. This was the future Chieftain of all the Twelve Tribes of the Medjai, and Ehab was about to ask permission to court his sister.  
Kazeem waited. 

Finally, Ehab found his words. “I would like permission to court your sister Yasmeen,” he said in a rush. 

“And what does my sister say about that?” Before Ehab could answer, Kazeem called out to Yasmeen again.

“Yasmeen,” Kazeem said when the girl reappeared. “This warrior has asked my permission to court you. Do you accept him as a suitor?”

Yasmeen looked down at Ehab and pretended she was thinking about her answer. Ehab started fidgeting under Yasmeen’s gaze, wondering if this had not been a bad idea. At last, Yasmeen smiled, and Ehab felt as if the sun had just broken through the clouds.

“Aiwa,” said Yasmeen, and Ehab thought his heart would burst from happiness.

“I am certain our Chieftain will wish to speak with you,” Kazeem told Ehab. “But for now, you are welcome in out tent.”

Kazeem turned to Yasmeen. “Come sister, bring another cup and join us.”

..oo00oo..

A few nights later, Kazeem and Benyamin, bedrolls in their arms, met at the entrance to the barracks.

“At least your Ume gave you something to eat,” said Benyamin, indicating the package Kazeem was balancing on top of his bedroll.

“Benyamin, your mother does not cook.”

“Oh that’s right.” Benyamin gave a wry smile. “I’ll just help you eat yours.”

Benyamin looked around. “Where’s Yasmeen?” he asked.

“She is with Human and Amira. Did you think she was going to spend the night in the barracks with the warriors?”

“How is she doing?” asked Benyamin.

“I think she will be fine. You know Yasmeen. She always looks for the positive. The prospect of Ehab courting her is what is on her mind now.”

“Did your father say anything about where they had been?” Benyamin asked, changing the subject.

“La, he walked in, my Ume gave a most un-Sayyidah-like shriek, threw my belongings at me, and told me to find somewhere else to spend the night.”

“Same here. I pray to Allah that we are blessed with wives who will be as happy to see us when we return home.”

Back in their tent, Jamila was divesting Ardeth of his clothes. “I need to make sure you are not injured,” she explained. Ardeth’s outer robe was ripped and had a number of suspicious stains on it, but Jamila was accustomed to that. Over the years, she had become adept at removing bloodstains and repairing the ripped fabric that usually accompanied them. Tonight, Jamila noticed that although there were some stiff spots on the material, there were very few new tears.

“How did Musaid fare?” Jamila asked.

“Luckily he also emerged unscathed, as did his clothes.” Ardeth chuckled. Natira did not have much skill as a seamstress, and usually called on Jamila’s mother Fatima when she needed something sewn. 

“Wait, there is something in the pocket for you,” Ardeth said, taking his robe from his wife’s hands. He pulled out a thin gold chain which had a number of small bells on it and handed it to Jamila.

“It’s very pretty, but it’s a little big,” said Jamila doubtfully, holding it up to her wrist.

“It is not a bracelet, it is for your ankle. The bells will make a sound when you move,” Ardeth smirked.

“You mean when I dance for you.”

Ardeth smiled. “Would you deny the brave warrior who barely escaped from battle with his life the pleasure of seeing his woman dance?”

Jamila frowned.

“Now kalila, I was just joking. You can see that none of the blood is mine. Look.” Ardeth removed his tunic. “Now do you believe me?”

“I am not sure, my husband. Perhaps you should also remove your trousers.”

And he did. 

A similar scene was taking place in Musaid and Natira’s tent.

“Our lord brought his lady wife back a gold anklet,” remarked Musaid as he and his wife rested from their recent lovemaking. “Would you have wanted me to bring you one of those?”

“What would I do with an anklet? Besides, it would cover my tattoos,” Natira scoffed. As a Medjai warrior, she had little use for jewelry other than the amulet she wore around her neck.

“In that case, it’s a good thing I brought you these instead.” Musaid went over to his bedroll, which had been hastily cast in a corner when he entered his tent. Unrolling it, he pulled out a handful of thin gold chains. “They are to braid in your hair,” he explained. Natira normally wore her waist length black hair in a long braid down her back. 

Natira took the chains from her husband’s hands. “Aiwa,” she said. “I think these would be appropriate for a warrior. Shukran, husband.”

“Now you must let me braid your hair.” With a sister, two daughters, and a wife, all with the long hair Medjai women favored, Musaid was an expert. He sat back on the bed, still naked, and Natira sat between his legs with her back to him.

“Do you remember what I said the day we met?” asked Musaid, combing through Natira’s hair with his fingers.

“Aiwa, you said you had never sparred with a warrior whose hair smelled like jasmine.”

“And you said that Yasmeen was your middle name, but it was a secret.”

“What kind of warrior is named Yasmeen?” asked Natira.

“The one I have been in love with since that first day.” Musaid turned Natira around so she was straddling him.

“What about the chains?” she teased.

“My heart is already chained to yours,” answered Musaid.

It was the next morning before Natira’s hair was finally braided, chains and all. “I think I will show Jamila,” she said. Because their daughters were now married to Ardeth’s brother, they could call the Chieftain and his wife by their first names in private, although they usually did not. There was not much privacy in a Medjai village, and neither Musaid nor Natira wanted people to think they were showing off.

“Ask her to show you the anklet,” replied Musaid. “It has little bells on it in the shapes of lotuses.”

“Where did you acquire these treasures?”

“Well, there was a dig going on, sponsored by the Museum in Boston. You know that the curator there is Medjai, just as Terrence Bay was, may Allah rest his soul in peace.” It was common for Medjai to work in some capacity in museums which housed large collections of ancient Egyptian artifacts, and the Boston Museum of Fine Arts had one of the largest.  
Natira nodded, not wanting to interrupt her husband.

“Everything was going smoothly, nothing was being disturbed that should not be disturbed, no one had woken up that should stay asleep.” Musaid grinned. 

“Then one day, some strangers rode into the camp and tried to rob us. That did not work out so well for them.”

“Hence the blood all over your robe,” said Natira.

“Aiwa. When we searched their packs, we discovered some objects that they had probably looted from another tomb. There was no way to know where the treasure came from, but the Museum people said the items would make a good addition to their collection.”

“And you took a few things for your troubles.”

“We could have taken it all. We were generous to the archaeologists by only taking a few trinkets.” 

This was true. The Medjai could take whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. For three thousand years, they had protected the treasures of the Pharaohs. There were no more Pharaohs, but the treasure was still there, hidden beneath the sand. The Egyptian government was only too happy to let the Medjai take care of the tomb looters, unscrupulous treasure hunters, marauding tribesmen, and the like. In return, the Medjai were given free rein in the Sahara. When Ardeth Bay said “In the desert, I am the law,” he was not exaggerating.

After breakfast, Natira went to visit Jamila. She found Jamila standing with Ardeth’s robe in her hands.

“I can’t decide whether to wash it first, mend it first, or burn it first,” Jamila quipped, draping it over a low stool.

“Is that not one of his favorites?” asked Natira.

“Aiwa, that’s why it’s been mended so many times.”

“Burning is not an option, kalila,” said Ardeth with a smile, coming out of the sleeping area. He was shirtless, and had the same satisfied look on his face as Musaid had worn that morning.

“I am going to the bathing tent,” Ardeth announced, pulling on a tunic and taking a towel from a nearby chest. 

“Will you go get Yasmeen on your way back?”

“Of course.” Ardeth put his arms around his wife. “You know I would do anything for you, kalila, even brave my parents first thing in the morning.”

After Ardeth left, Natira turned to Jamila. “You will forgive me, my lady, but you are staring after him like a moonstruck calf.”

“Huh? Oh I guess I am, Natira. But he’s just so, so……” Jamila looked at her friend. “Do you mean to tell me you do not enjoy seeing your husband without a shirt?”

“I prefer to see him with neither a shirt nor trousers,” replied Natira.

The two women laughed.

“After all these years, we are still acting like maidens with their first suitors,” said Jamila.

“Speaking of that, did you tell your husband about what happened here while he was away?”

“Aiwa, in between, well, you know. My husband is satisfied with how Kazeem handled everything, including Kazeem’s decision to let Ehab court our daughter. But I think he is going to give Ehab a bit of a hard time, just for fun.”

“Yusef had it easy,” replied Natira. “When he was two years old, our daughters came to us and said they were going to marry him. He never had a chance. But Musaid still loves to tease him, and Yusef is so easy to tease.”

“Did you see what Ardeth brought for me?” Jamila jiggled her foot, causing the little bells to chime. “He told me a long story about how this had belonged to a vizier’s favorite slave girl who loved him so much she followed him into the afterlife. But I think if anything, she was probably mummified kicking and screaming.”

“They didn’t do that too often,” said Natira. “And she would be dead by now anyway.”

“Aiwa.” Jamila moved her foot again. “The bells do make a lovely sound, and my lord enjoyed….” Jamila trailed off.

“You are not the only one. It was not until morning that Musaid was able to concentrate on braiding these chains into my hair.” Natira flipped her braid over her shoulder so Jamila could see the glints of gold intertwined with her hair.

“Oh that’s pretty,” said Jamila. “I sometimes do that with Yasmeen’s hair using ribbons that match her robe, but this is much more elegant.”

Jamila picked her husband’s robe up again. “I think washing first, then burning,” she said with a smile.

Musaid was already at the bathing tent when Ardeth got there.

“I did not take time to bathe last night,” said Musaid. “Natira was unwilling to let me out of her sight.”

“We should go out on patrol more often,” Ardeth joked.

“Did the Sayyidah like the anklet?”

“I enjoyed seeing her wear it,” Ardeth smirked. “You know, my friend, I would lay a Pharaoh’s treasure at my wife’s feet if she asked. But she rarely asks for anything for herself. Only for the children, or for our parents, or for someone in the village. She insists that I have already given her everything she could possibly desire.”

“Allah has blessed you,” replied Musaid. “There are many who would see a marriage into the house of Bay as an opportunity for unlimited wealth.”

“Tell me, Musaid, what do you know of this Ehab who has caught my daughter’s eye?”

“So that’s it. My Benyamin considers him a friend and I have heard nothing but good things about him. Did you know he has joined the group of warriors that my sister teaches?”

“What of his intentions towards Yasmeen?”

“As far as I know, he is an honorable man. But if not, I know places out in the desert where a body would never be found.”

Ardeth chuckled. “I will keep that in mind.”

When Ardeth returned home from the bathing tent, he found that Kazeem was also there. “I thank you for doing my rounds this morning,” he said to his son.

“I have become accustomed to getting up early while you were away,” replied Kazeem. “And it gives me the excuse to take Twig out.”

“Perhaps I shall join your grandfather in the Tent of the Elders, and leave the running of the village to you,” replied Ardeth.

“Where is Yasmeen?” Jamila asked, coming out of the kitchen area.

“A thousand pardons,” said Ardeth. “I forgot you wanted me to bring her home.”

Jamila knew Ardeth never forgot anything, and realized he had left Yasmeen at her grandparents’ on purpose.

“I think I will go get her, and leave you two men to talk.” Giving both her husband and son hugs, she left the tent.

“Sit down, and I will get us something to drink,” Ardeth said. 

“Am I in trouble, father?” Kazeem asked.

“La, la. Just two Chieftains having a pleasant conversation.”

Kazeem sat down stiffly on a pile of pillows.

Ardeth returned with a jug of water and two cups. “Please relax, Kazeem. You have done nothing wrong,” said Ardeth, lowering himself onto some nearby cushions.

“I did everything wrong, father. I let Yasmeen be kidnapped. I killed a fellow warrior. I…….”

“First of all,” interrupted Ardeth. “You did not let your sister be kidnapped. Even knowing what Nazir was like, you could not have foreseen what he would do. You did what you had to do. There is nothing I would have done differently. As much as I would like to, we cannot keep our women in purdah or have them surrounded by guards all the time.”

“You know I love your mother,” Ardeth continued. “And I love you and your sister. I would do anything, and I mean anything, to keep you safe. Nazir sought his own death.”

“It is not easy to be Chieftain,” said Kazeem. “Did you ever wish that you could just be a little boy on your father’s knee again and not have all this responsibility?”

“Sometimes I still do, Kazeem. Sometimes I still do.”

By the time Jamila returned with Yasmeen, Kazeem had given Ardeth a detailed report of everything that had occurred during the Chieftain’s absence.

“I do not doubt that Nazir purposely waited until I was gone to carry out his plan,” said Ardeth, just as Jamila and Yasmeen entered the tent.

“We’ll never know,” said Yasmeen. She flopped down on the pillows next to her father and gave him a hug. “Kazeem saved me, you know.”

Ardeth returned the hug. “I know.”

“I was only a little scared,” said Yasmeen. “But then Kazeem and, and the other warriors came, and I wasn’t scared anymore.”

A few days later, Ardeth happened upon Ehab in the stables. This was the first time Ardeth had managed to come across Ehab when he was not with a group of other warriors. Every time Ardeth returned home and Ehab was there, Ehab would make his excuses and quickly leave.  
“Why are you mucking out that stall?” Ardeth asked, looking over the gate. Ehab had taken off his robe and tunic and was busy cleaning the stall of a large stallion who stood patiently to one side. “Is that not a job for one of the novices?”

Ehab turned, the rake still in his hands. “This horse is skittish around others. He scares them, and they scare him.”

Ardeth looked more closely at the horse. He remembered this one. He was one of Askari’s foals and was as aggressive as his sire had been. Ardeth could not bear to sell him, and did not have the time to break him himself. So the horse spent his days either in his stall or running wild with the other horses.

“He does not scare you,” remarked Ardeth.

“He and I have an understanding,” replied Ehab. “I have taken care of horses since I was able to walk. My father, may Allah rest his soul in peace, took care of the stables in our tribe. All this one needs is a gentle hand.” Ehab walked over to the horse and patted him on the nose. “Don’t you, boy?”

“Would you like him for your own?” The words came out of Ardeth’s mouth before he could stop them.

“Oh yes Sayyid!” exclaimed Ehab. “But there is one thing I must tell you. I have been training him to saddle, when no one else is around to bother us. He will make you a fine mount someday.”

“La, Ehab, he is yours now. You are the one who has earned his trust. I doubt he would let anyone else ride him. His sire was like that.”

“I know. Yasmeen has told me stories about Askari. You must miss him.” Ehab paused. “Oh, a thousand pardons, Sayyid. I did not mean to be so forward.”

“It is alright. I do miss him. He carried me through many battles and was a true and loyal friend. Just as this one will be for you.”

“However,” Ardeth continued. “I really wanted to speak with you about my daughter.”

“I would understand if you did not wish for me to court her, Sayyid,” he said sadly. 

Ardeth had been approached by a number of young warriors who wanted to court his daughter. To a one, they boasted about their families’ wealth, their bravery in battle, and so on. Yasmeen had refused them all. 

“Yasmeen has chosen you above all her other prospective suitors. Can you tell me why?”

“I do not pretend to know why Yasmeen does anything. I am just thankful she considers me worthy of her attention.”

The stallion had started fidgeting and Ehab walked over to him. “It’s alright,” he said softly to the horse. “That’s our Chieftain. His horse was your sire.” Ehab looked up at Ardeth. “Is he really mine, Sayyid?”

“Aiwa, that is what I said.”

“In that case, I would like to ask you a favor.”

Ardeth braced himself, expecting a request for a new saddle, a bag of gold, or something that would show Ehab’s true character. He was already considering how he would tell Yasmeen that Ehab was not going to visit her anymore.

“When this horse is properly trained,” Ehab continued. “I would like to take him to Hamunaptra.”  
That was not what Ardeth was expecting to hear.

“Hamunaptra?” the Chieftain asked. “Why would you want to go to Hamunaptra?” No one wanted to go to Hamunaptra. Even Ardeth did not want to go to Hamunaptra, and he sometimes thought he spent more time there than anyplace else.

“It isn’t so much that I want to go there as that I want to prove myself worthy of your daughter. To her, and to you, but especially to myself,” replied Ehab. “I think this one would be a good companion.”

“Very well, a patrol just left for Hamunaptra and will be back in three months. Do you think you can have that one ready by then?”

“Aiwa, he is very smart.”

“There is just one thing,” Ardeth said.

Ehab stiffened, still expecting to hear that he was no longer welcome in the Chieftain’s tent.

“You must choose a proper name for the horse. Calling him ‘this one’ and ‘that one’ does not befit the horse of a Medjai warrior.”

Ehab smiled in relief. “I would appreciate any suggestions, Sayyid.”

“Perhaps you and Yasmeen could decide on a name together, when you next visit my tent.” With that, Ardeth turned and left the stables, leaving Ehab to stare open mouthed after him.

..oo00oo..

Three months later…  
..  
“Do you really have to go?” Yasmeen asked Ehab as he checked the straps on Shareek’s saddle. 

“Yasmeen, we’ve talked about this. I will only be gone three months. You’ll be so busy helping your aunts with the new babies that you won’t even notice I’m gone.” Ehab looked around, made sure that no one was watching, and put his finger under Yasmeen’s chin, tipping her head up so he could look in her eyes.

“I will think about you every day, and every night,” he said. “When I look up at the moon I will imagine that you are looking up at the same time.”

Shareek whinnied and Yasmeen took a step back. She was cautious around Shareek. He reminded her too much of Askari for her not to be.

“He’s anxious to go,” said Ehab. He went to swing himself up into the saddle.

“Wait,” said Yasmeen. She pulled a ribbon out of one of the braids that was holding her hair back. “Take this with you.” Yasmeen handed the ribbon to Ehab. 

Ehab took the ribbon and tucked it in his robe. “I shall keep this next to my heart, until I am back here with you.”

Ehab reluctantly mounted Shareek. He had decided to ride towards the back of the company of Medjai, so his horse would not feel as if he were being pursued. After one last goodbye, Yasmeen moved back so she was standing with the other women who were there to see their men off.

Ehab had been busy during the last three months. Between training, attending the classes Zahara taught, training Shareek, and spending any free time he had left with Yasmeen, he had not spent much time relaxing in the barracks. So some of the men he was riding with, who were new to the village, were unknown to him. 

“That’s the Chieftain’s daughter, is she not?” asked the warrior next to him. Indicating Yasmeen.  
Ehab looked at the other warrior with suspicion, trying to gauge his character. But all he saw was a friendly face with an open expression. 

“Aiwa, she is.”

“And she is your woman?”

Ehab grinned. “Aiwa, she is my woman.”

The leader of the group gave the signal to move out and Ehab turned his head for one last look at Yasmeen. “Aiwa,” he said to himself. “She is my woman.”

The End

..oo00oo..

Arabic words  
Abu - father  
Aiwa - yes  
Baharat – a spice mixture  
Duat – the ancient Egyptian realm of the dead  
Ful Medames – a breakfast dish made of eggs and fava beans  
Habibti - an endearment  
Kalila – an endearment  
Khatib - fiancé  
Kyphi - incense  
La - no  
Marhaban – a greeting  
Masā' al-khayr – a polite greeting  
Mastaba - tomb  
Sayyid – a respectful form of address for a man  
Sayyidah – a respectful form of address for a woman  
Shenti - a knee length garment worn in ancient Egypt  
Shukran – thank you  
Ume – mother  
Uskut! – be quiet!  
Yansoon tea – anise tea

..oo00oo..

This is one of the poems that Yusef brought back from Cairo:

First Stanza, Beginning of the sayings of the great happiness, from Papyrus Chester Beatty I

My one, the sister without peer,  
The handsomest of all!  
She looks like the rising morning star  
At the start of a happy year.  
Shining bright, fair of skin,  
Lovely the look of her eyes,  
Sweet the speech of her lips,  
She has not a word too much.  
Upright neck, shining breast,  
Hair true lapis lazuli;  
Arms surpassing gold,  
Fingers like lotus buds.  
Heavy thighs, narrow waist,  
Her legs parade her beauty;  
With graceful step she treads the ground,  
Captures my heart by her movements.  
She causes all men's necks  
To turn about to see her;  
Joy has he whom she embraces,  
He is like the first of men!  
When she steps outside she seems  
Like that the Sun!

Source  
Ancient Egyptian Literature—A Book of Readings, Volume II: The New Kingdom, translated by Miriam Lichtheim. The University of California Press, Berkeley, California, 1976. pages 182-193. Copyright ©1973-80 The Regents of the University of California..


End file.
